Chasing Angels of Music
by darkheart989
Summary: Seven years after the theater in which the events that defined Christine Daae's life has burned, she returns to the grand reopening to once again sing. She has changed in the seven years, though, and she is not the only one who has. Erik/Christine Phantom/Christine
1. Music of the Night

The lights flared onto her eyes as the woman entered the stage, illuminating the gorgeous dress she wore. She smiled nervously as she began to sing softly. A song from long ago, that had echoed in her mind for years. The audience stood silent and attentive as she softly began her performance. Her mind sat somewhere else, however.

The dark eyes in Box 5 watched among the thousands of other pairs, but with much more feeling. He had not seen the girl in years. Her face brought about in him memories of the night. The night filled with flames dancing as he held her tightly. A night years ago when he had burned down this very theater, _his_ theater, to prove to all how much he loved her. How much she had cherished her and she had left. She had left that night and he had not seen her since. Now, here she was.

Her eyes flitted to Box 5, hoping to see the familiar eyes that had enchanted her for years. Instead, she saw only shadows staring back at her. She got a sense he was there, but brushed it away as only memories, a longing for him she was not permitting herself to have. He was gone. Burned up in the fire. They said so. They had assured her that all survivors were recorded in the log that she had read over almost a hundred times.

As she began to sing, she reminisced to the time past. Oh how she wished she could go back and change the choices she had made. What it would be like to accept the ring from him. After all, her heart had been with him the whole time, but how the city would have mocked. Not only her or him, but them together. Her ballet sisters would never have understood.

They didn't understand anything, anymore, it appeared. Not even why she had to leave Raoul after all he had done. Slept with a girl in America. And Russia. And China. Oh, she should have known! She felt as much as a fool as anyone could be.

As the haunting melody continued to play, the dark eyes hidden in the shadows widen with surprise. Their song. His song. He wrote it for her. She was singing it again. Seven years after the theater had burned down, here she was. Singing their song in their theater. He could barely believe it. Why would she sing this song after all this time? Except if... No! He would not allow himself to think that way any longer. That was for dreams only. The only place he could hold her.

She ended the song beautifully, receiving a well-deserved standing ovation from the people around him. He rose as well, keeping his clapping quiet, as to not draw her attention. He was so scared if she saw him, even now, she would run. So he would keep his distance. As to see and hear her again after all these years would have to be enough, since it was better than nothing at all.

He turned to depart down his secret stairwell under the seats. As he stepped out so the chairs could fold up quickly, he instantly regretted it.

"Wait!" he heard her call. Christine was onstage, calling out to him. Looking straight at him. The audience went silent, following her eyes. He dare not make the mistake of looking behind him. Of seeing her eyes. No, he couldn't do that to himself. So, by the time the audience looked up to his box, the seats were once again unfolded and he was gone.

As the gazes returned to Christine onstage, her eyes filled with tears. He couldn't be gone. He was here. She saw him. She knew she did. But the audience just sat confused. Unable to take the staring any longer, Christine bowed one final time and ran offstage.

Meg followed her, so scared of what she might do, knowing of Christine's recent flashbacks since she had left Raoul and returned to the theater. She had begged her not to. The theater burned for a reason. They should never have rebuilt it.

And, yet, they had. More beautiful and grand than any other theater in the world. Drawing Parisians and foreigners alike into its massive halls, lined with marble, gold and silver. Only the performers could complete it fairly and Christine certainly did.

Knocking softly on the doors of her dressing room, Meg wished desperately not to walk in on what she knew was already occurring by the soft sighs on the other side of the door. Christine was mourning her love for the mysterious man who captured her heart long ago. Her angel of music.

The scene was terrible. Christine had tears of glass glistening down her porcelain face, handkerchief in hand, and yet, she still looked like a doll given to a young girl. Meg sometimes envied her beautiful friend, for she looked like a sweaty hog when she cried.

She approached her friend, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder in support. She too knew how it felt to lose someone you loved. Her mother had passed not yet a year ago, and the two women were truly reliant of one another in their mournings.

"He-" Meg started to say, but Christine rose a fragile hand at her eye-level to stop her.

"Don't say it. Please. I know what you are going to say. I can't hear it. Not now. Not here." Christine begged her friend.

Meg only nodded, tightening her grip on her shoulder. Her mind was made up. She needed to get Christine to accept it. She feared that day would never come. But Meg knew, she was sure of it. The Phantom of the Opera was dead.


	2. Shadows in the Theater

As Christine left the theater out the back door, she wrapped her coat tighter around her. What would she ever do with herself anymore? She wasn't sure whether the chills that ran up her spine were from the Parisian cold or the thoughts she had allowed herself tonight. He could be here. He could be alive. No, Christine. You can not think that way.

Her heart and mind were playing tricks on her, just like in the theater tonight. It was nothing more than a fake flashback. Likely the shadows making the window curtains appear to dance. Yes, it was perfectly explainable. But why his box? Why box five? Fate was such a cruel mistress to all of us.

As the lamplights were flickering above her, shadows danced on the street. In the alleyway, Christine saw a figure run out of a door and into the street. She couldn't help herself as she took off toward the silhouette of a man.

"Wait!" She called out again. "Is it you?" She watched with hopeful eyes as the steam of her breath hung in the air. She begged it to be him. For the voice to reply with a deep baritone drawl that sounded like a beautiful cello playing.

As the shadow inched toward her, her breath caught in her throat. It couldn't be. But if it was?

"Please don't run. I've waited for you for seven years. I thought you were dead." she begged.

As the figure inched toward her, Christine realized too late that the man was not the one she had hoped for. Instead, it was one she had hoped against. Yes, drunken and missing teeth, was Raoul, inching towards her. She didn't like the smile on his face. It was not one of kindness.

"Dead? Me? Or were you hoping for someone else?" Raoul grinned. "What is it, Christine? Was I not the only disloyal one?" He continued, inching towards Christine.

"No! No!" Christine screamed as she ran backwards, out of the alley. Before she could get out of the alley, she felt the strong arms wrap around her frail waistline and pull her back in as she screamed.

No one heard, however, but she continued to try. Even drunk, though, Raoul was stronger than her. He pulled her back in the alley, even as she fought. Finally, she scratched his hand, and Raoul howled in pain, releasing her.

Christine ran back toward her theater, seeking safety in its walls. She burst through the doors and into the darkened hall. She turned quickly and locked the doors behind her. She fell and tripped as she sprinted into the theater, her tears and fear blinding her to her surroundings.

Racing through door after door, looking for her room, Meg, anyone who could help her. No one else was left in the theater. She had taken so long after she finished that she was sure she was the last one out. She had sent poor Meg home before she had left, assuring the younger girl would get some sleep at least. They had another show tomorrow.

Knowing she had been left all alone, Christine went to her dressing room. A room so flawless and pristine when the lights were on seemed desolate and haunting without illumination. She ventured in further, however, without the lighting, as she felt fine without the safety of seeing the flowers and mirrors around her.

As she reached what she was searching for, however, her breath hitched in her throat. The mirror she once went through into the place of her nightmares turned dreams had a special flower held on top of it. A single red rose, beautiful in its standing, with a black tie around it.

Who could be so cruel as to play a trick like this? On the night of her reopening performance, nonetheless. Surely Meg would not do such a thing. She din't know of the Maestro's gifts. Neither did Raoul. No one did except her and him. So surely this was an assurance that he had returned! So surely this was his work! He had been there tonight!

Or was it only a cruel trick of fate? Had another lover left her this rose, not knowing of the meaning it would have to her? Not realizing how much it would heal and shatter her heart at the same time. But how? She was unsure.

Gingerly, Christine reached up and plucked down the rose, searching for a meaning. Searching so intently that she did not see the face appear in the mirror next to her reflection. A face she would have recognized instantly, even though the mask had covered half of it.

As Christine continued to search the rose for answers it dared not give, the face began to disappear back into shadows. However, Christine heard the noise of shoes and looked up, matching eyes with the figure in her mirror.

Disbelieving, she reached to touch his cheek, but hit only the cool glass of the mirror instead. Rushing to move the glass to one side so she could enter into the figure's world of mystery, when she looked up again he was gone.

Christine ran quickly through the glass, intent on finding her lost love, but realized that the hallway was empty. If her love had been there, he was gone. He was lost, the same way he had been to her seven years ago, all her own fault. Her decision to leave. All her fault.

Unable to take anymore chaos from the night, Christine headed back to her dressing room. She shut the glass behind her, and sat at her vanity, tears flooding her face. What a cruel trick. What a horrid thing for someone to do. What crazy visions she was having.

As Christine sobbed herself to sleep sitting at the vanity, she completely forgot the only thing on her mind: the rose tied with black ribbon on the table behind her from who knew where.


	3. While She Wept and Slept

As Christine wept, she fell fast asleep on her vanity, the white mask on her mind. Not to even begin on how much she missed the man who once wore it. As she slept, these things stayed in her mind.

She did not notice as the figure in her mirror reentered her room, and picked her up in his arms. He left the dressing room through the catacombs and headed off with his destination in mind. He noticed and paused for a second as the woman moved her head to rest on his shoulder. Looking down on her beautiful face, he could not stop himself as he lent down and brushed a curl from her face. His Christine. Always his Christine.

Knowing the route by heart, he kept his eyes on her as they progressed through the darkened halls and hidden passageways of the theater. When they finally came to the exit, he grinned as the seats folded up, allowing him to enter.

He walked over to the chair that was his and laid her on the one next to it. Making sure she was comfortable and steadily asleep, he took the seat next to her. He sat and watched nothing but her for hours. His heart soared and raced, knowing his Christine had returned to him.

The young girl who stole his heart all those years ago finally lay next to him. And she smiled in her sleep, making his heart fly on wings all over again. How lucky he was to have her. But she must not know of his living and it broke his heart. It shattered him inside. She could never ever love him again. He would make sure of it. She did not love him. He was sure of it.

Knowing this, he rose at dawn and took his leave of her, leaving her comfortably curled in the chair beside his. He would return and watch her, but this must never occur again. She was too close to knowing. She had seen him twice. That could not happen. So he would keep his distance. Even if it killed him.

"Christine!" Meg called through the halls. "Where are you?! Christine!"

The frantic girl ran through the theater, crazed and showing it. However, her best friend slept soundly. In Box 5, Christine slept better than she had in seven years. She slept without nightmares or woes, but with a heart full of love and happiness, as she dreamt she was with him again.

When Meg found her, she cried out in relief and anguish, both happy Christine was safe and very much ready to murder her for not returning to their shared home the evening before. What was she thinking?

Meg went to her friend and shook her awake softly. Christine woke with a dazed smile, her eyes opening slowly. However, when she noticed the person next to her was not the one she had hoped for, her smile faded.

"Meg? What are you doing here?" The woman finally looked around her. "Where am- Am I in _his_ box?" Christine left to her feet, Meg steadying her by the elbow when she began to sway.

"Christine, what happened last evening? You did not return to our home." Meg asked, her questioning evident in her eyes.

"I-I was attacked in alleyway. By Raoul, who was in a drunken stupor." Christine recalled. "I returned to the theater, terrified, locking the doors behind me. I tried to find someone to help, but no one was here. So I went into my dressing room. He's alive, Meg! I know it! I saw it!"

Meg held up a gentle hand, stopping her friend.

"You saw him? You saw the phantom? Christine, you said last night you saw him in this very box as well, but it was only a vision. You saw the same thing last night after you were attacked. It was your nerves and adrenaline. I'm sure of it." Meg said, reassuring her friend.

"No. He let me know, he's here. _I'm_ sure of it." Christine returned as tears filled her eyes.

"Christ-" Meg started.

"No!" Christine cut her off. "Please. Just try to believe me."

"I can't. You know that. I truly am sorry, Christine." Meg said.

"Please, Meg. I know it." Christine began to sob again. "I know it. I love him. I fell asleep in my dressing room, at my vanity. He brought me here. He wanted me to be assured it was him."

The girls connected eyes, Christine's begging and Meg's trying to understand, but she just couldn't. Christine saw this and turned away, hurt that not even her best friend would understand.

"You go get ready for the show, Meg. I will be down shortly." Christine said, not facing the younger girl.

"No, perhaps I should-" Meg started leaning in towards the other girl.

"No." Christine made eye contact again. "Just go. Please."

Meg rose with a nod of blonde curls and departed the box, leaving Christine alone where she woke. Turning to the chair beside her, she ran a hand over the seat's fabric gently and continued to let the tears stream down her face. Tears for someone she had held so dear, and yet never told so. Tears for a love she had taken without gratitude and only when she lost did she realize what treasure it held. Tears for a man who played a phantom until one day, he became one. For now she realized, both she and he were phantoms, neither truly alive.


	4. Tears on a Rose

As Meg watched from the stage, Christine continued to caress the chair next to her. What was she to do? Her poor lovesick friend left all alone to mourn a man that some may question if he really was a man at all. As she watched, Christine rose to her feet, wiped the remaining tears, and headed toward her dressing room.

Debating whether or not to give her friend space, Meg decided it was in Christine's best interest to manage herself from her stupor, and went in the opposite direction of her friend's dressing room. She would leave Christine in peace...for now.

As Christine entered her dressing room, a flaming fire of self-hatred once again burned her entire body through. What an ignorant bliss she had been in! To know he loved her and yet still cast him aside out of fear of rejection. What a fool she had been!

She watched carefully as she intentionally pressed the delicate skin of her thumbprint into the rose's thorns. She watched, entranced, as a dark velvet red liquid flowed down her pale palm. What beauty. What a marvelous wonder, knowing she was human and alive, but unfeeling. She could not feel the pain as she pressed the sharpness deeper into her skin, drawing more of the blood.

"What are you doing?" a voice called out.

Christine whipped her head all around, searching for the speaker. She would see and recognize him in an instant. Any instant. She knew she would. Where was he? Surely he had to be here if she could hear him so clearly.

"Where are you? I knew you weren't dead!" she called out, hoping rising within her.

"Christine, why do you hurt yourself? That's not the purpose of your gift." the voice replied.

"Please come into where I can see you! I've missed you for seven years! I've longed for you each night!" she called in response, desperate to see his face.

The room lay in silence for a moment, and she feared he had left. Or that he had never been there at all, but only in her mind, which was where he only seemed to appear anymore. After a moment, however, the voice responded, this time a lot more tense and broken.

"You do not mean that. I am sure you do not. You left all those years ago as the flames blazed in Opera Populaire. You left those catacombs with _him_. You chose to leave, even as I begged you stay."

Christine welled up with sorrow and regret, hating herself even more than before. He was not wrong. In fact, he was quite right. She had made the decision all those years ago. She had regretted it each and everyday since. She tried to respond, but couldn't find the words to argue.

"I'm sorry." was all Christine could get out in barely a whisper, her throat closed tighter than a python's grip.

Again, the pause between was long and filled with discontent. How uncomfortable indeed as Christine's tears mixed with her blood, inching closing to her white gown. Surely, the satin and lace would be ruined when it caught.

Before the robe could be ruined, however, a gentle hand lifted her arm the other way and wrapped a soft bandage around her wound. Christine looked up, hoping to find her lost love, but instead found only Meg, her soft eyes scared with lack of understanding.

"Meg, no." Christine begged. "I must just allow this. Today must be the day I end my miserable life, as I mourn the loss of him and despise myself for my actions. I cannot love another, for my heart yearns only for him who composed the strings into a beautiful melody. I am sending myself crazy; hearing and seeing what isn't there, but what I wish to be. Just let me go, in this room, alone. I beg this of you."

Meg looked at her friend, terrified of her words. Even more so that they may turn into actions like the one she saw this night. How very lost her friend was. How very confused and alone. She had to end this. This is not how it could continue. This mixture of misery and madness, a never-ending circle of chaos and distraught. Christine being at a loss for words and hope, so lonely in this world. Meg knew what she must do, as difficult as it may be.

She nodded to Christine and left, running to the telegram machine. She dialed the number she needed to and ran off towards the entrance of the theater. A terrifying fear in her heart, but sureness nonetheless of what she must do.

Christine was feeling faint as a knock was heard at her dressing room door. As she looked down, her arms covered in the dark red blood stains drawing from her fingers. From the holes she had put in her own porcelain hands. And so, sure the door was locked, she did not respond.

The knock came again, much stronger this time. She again did not respond to the sound, resound to her final fate on this night.

The door, to Christine's fright, then opened and in rushed nurses and hospital attendants alike, Meg with them. Her sister had betrayed. No, they may not have been related by blood, but by love they were. And now her own sister would bring about the greatest pain in her life: having to live on with this pain in her heart. Hopefully, the medics were too late and she would die in the carriage.

As the medics tended to her arms, Meg watched on in a dazed stupor, tears filling her eyes. She had broken her own heart in doing so, but knew it must be done. For Christine's safety. People had been saying this is what must be done since the visions had started after what Raoul had done. Her heart broke as she watched her closest friend be dragged out lifelessly into the carriage. It was only when Christine saw what was written in script on the carriage that she began to fight.

Of course she would fight against going to the asylum, but Meg was truly left with no other choice. It broke her heart as her friend whipped her head back to stare at her, eyes filled with hatred and fear. So her best friend had finally betrayed her. Sent her to the asylum, the looney bin, thought her as crazy as everyone else did. How horrid.

Meg, unable to watch, turned and went into the theater, shedding just as many tears as Christine's screams echoed through the halls, only stopping when the grand doors slammed shut, echoing silence in her place. How horrible a day, Meg thought.

As she turned to return to Christine's dressing room and clean the mess on the vanity and rug, she felt a strong grip wrap tightly around her throat and cut off her oxygen. She panicked, attempting to scratch the course hands away and breathe again, but the tightness remained the same. She felt the face of her attacker inch next to hers and his breath on her ear.

"What did you do?" the enraged voice whispers, the depth of the voice made it strangely melodic as the speakers bit out the words.

"I. Saved. Her." Meg choked out, her cheeks reddening from the lack of air.

"You sent her to her death. You think a woman as frail and gentle as she can survive in a place like that? You just sealed her fate, you hexed old witch! You cursed her to death!" the attacker spit out, sounding as choked and upset as Meg.

"Please. Let me go. She had visions and voices she was hearing in her head. They can help her. I'm sure of it." Meg begged her attacker. The man grew stronger a second, his anger rising, then released his grip.

Meg, gasping, fell to the floor. She clutched her reddened throat as air rushed back into it, sobs fighting to get out. She finally turned to the man, and gasped in fear and shock.

The masked figure that looked down at her was not as she remembered. She remembered tales of a fellow dark and intimidating. While this man was both, he was strikingly enchanting and captivating as well, stealing her breath away once again.

"It is you. You are not dead." she managed to get out, a=following a long pause.

The figure cast his gaze away from the door and down to the girl that lay at his feet. She backed away for a second, unsure whether it was out of fear or intrigue. Christine had been right. Here was the dead Phantom, standing right in front of her, flesh and blood, as the bruises on her neck would come to prove.

"No. I am not dead. And those were not imaginary, what Christine saw and heard. It was I, trying to reconnect with her. She has at last accepted her love for me, and I for her. We would have finally been reunited, had you not barged into her dressing room earlier." he said, eyes narrowing in hate behind the mask.

For the first time, Meg did not know what to say. She simply lie on the floor searching for words and oxygen. So it was all true. Everything Christine said. She had doubted her best friend, even sent her to what would surely destroy her from the inside out, if she was not murdered by it's inhabitants first.

"I must go and fetch her. She must not stay long in there. Not an hour or another moment if I can help it." the strange man said, fetching his cloak and hat. Meg watched, still amazed at what she was witnessing and what she had done.

Poor Christine, terrified and innocent, now laid somewhere on a cold stone floor surrounded by demonic creatures, and it was all her fault. What would she say when Christine returned? Nothing would be worthy of forgiveness. Nothing at all.

The man, fully dressed for the Parisian winter, headed out into the cold, leaving a distraught and shattered Meg behind. As the doors echoed their slamming shut, she felt a little more broken and hurt inside than before. How she had promised her Christine, her older sister, to watch over her, and she had directed the woman's destruction from this world. As she wished the strange and entrancing phantom would arrive in time to save Christine, she also had no idea what she would do upon her return. She had no idea what to do now. So she laid herself down along the stone floor and sobbed. Sobbed for what Christine had lost, what she had done, and for the man whose love she had stolen from his life.


	5. In Your Arms Again

Christine sobbed on the cold stone floor, as she looked down at her wrapped arms. Already the blood had stained the pristine white bandages. Flawed and messy, just like the rest of her life. How horrible it was without him in it.

And yet, he was still here, she was sure of it. She had heard his voice in her dressing room and seen him last night. Her heart was set on it. He was not gone. He couldn't be.

And yet, she was so assured that Meg loved her like a sister. Meg, who had betrayed her and sent her to this horrid place. This place of chill and shadows, filled with people she did not ever hope to understand the scenario of.

"A new blood, huh? What's the matter, sweetheart? Rich women like yourself rarely end up here with us, so what's your story?" A woman of the night approached her, the stench of strong liquor rampant on her person.

Christine, not wanting to respond, simply hid her face, pretending not to hear her. Alas, the woman inched closer, not in an intimidating way, but rather in one that was of a child approaching a scared animal in the woods.

"Come now, girly, it can't be that bad. I've been here so many times I've lost track. I'll just shag the guard fellow that comes later on and I'll be released quick and easy." the lady waited for a response, but got none. "Not your style, though, it seems. I betcha you got a rich husband, though. He'll come and get you out of here. Not to worry."

"I've got no one." Christine whispered so softly that, if one of the other inmates had sneezed, the woman would have missed it. There was a long pause before Christine spoke again. "The man I love is long dead and the only other person in the world I trusted was the one who placed me here. I'm all alone."

"Oh, honey. You're not alone. You've got us." the lady offered gently, careful of when Christine flinched sharply when the cold hand rested on her shoulder.

"Yeah! Come join us, sweetie! You're no better than the rest of us! Go through one or two guards for practice here, and you'll be ready for tomorrow night on the street! one girl called from the other side of the cell.

"For sure! Colette and I will help you! Plus, you're a pretty one! You'll make money easy enough!" another called.

"Enough!" the lady closest to Christine called harshly. "Ignore them. They're still drunk from the evening. I'm Priscilla. I'm happy to have you here. Finally someone else sane to keep me company." she said, sitting down next to Christine. "What pretty hair you have, lady. You must be so proud of your curls." The strange woman began running her fingers through Christine's hair as the brunette froze up.

"Stop that." she said, pale as ever. "I don't like it."

Priscilla ignored Christine, however, and continued on. What Christine didn't see as she faced away from the prostitute, was the woman pull a small knife from her breast.

"Well, honey, this world is full of things you don't like. Get over it. Now it is mine." Priscilla said, swiping the blade across the luscious curls, making an even cut just above Christine's shoulders as the other woman cried out and tried to grab the knife, only to have it plunged into her bandaged palm.

Christine cried out in pain, calling the guards attentions to herself. The guards unlocked the door as Priscilla swiped the knife back and forth multiple times more, catching Christine only once more.

The men ripped the two ladies apart as the prostitute screamed bloody hell and continued to wrestle the guard for her blade. The other guard held Christine tight as she wept, blood once again mixing with her tears on this night. The source of blood was a gash on her cheek, deep and surely would scar, ruining her porcelain doll face.

As the guard grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to the bleeding woman, she gingerly accepted it with her good hand, raising her hand to where the blood flow seeped out of her pale face. As she cared for herself, the guard looked on, amazed at her beauty.

"How did a lady such as yourself get caught up in a place like this?" he asked softly.

Christine matched his brown eyes with her own ocean blue ones. She turned away from the young man, embarrassed by her tale of despair, but his soft hand gently reached up and turned her gaze back to him.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. Your story is not a rare one." he comforted her, resting his hand on top of the handkerchief on her cheek.

She nodded and leaned in a bit closer to him as he assisted her. Surely those dark eyes were similar enough to the ones she had seen before, that they could satisfy her enough. The gentle man took her chin in his soft hand, still running his other thumb across her cheek, and inched their faces closer until their lips met, Christine imagining that the man before her was another, but the spark was just not there. She pulled back from him, not wishing to continue. He had other ideas, however, as he inched his hand up her torn skirt, she panicked, kicking and fighting the man off.

"Aw, come on. It'll be over soon." he promised, not affected by Christine's fighting.

Christine was ever so grateful when the other guard called back into the cell, stopping the younger man inn his tracks.

"Maxwell! Release her at once! Someone has come to take Miss Daae with them, and will be most upset if you are permitted to continue this act of sin." the older guard called harshly, awakening the younger guard from the daze he was in.

Christine was released and fled, leaving the handkerchief and upset guard behind. She cared not who had bought her freedom, only that she had escaped this place. This place of nightmares.

As she rushed out to the hallway, she stopped in her tracks. What she was seeing could not be real. Could it? Before her stood her long lost maestro, looking as regal as the last time she had seen him on the stage as Don Juan.

He stared at her and only her, watching her every move, unsure of what to expect. Would she run from him or welcome him back? Could she ever forgive him for his crimes? Could he forgive her? He wasn't sure.

As she ran into his embrace, however, he could not help but smile as she buried her face un his black-lined chest. Enveloping and remembering every scent, line, and touch of him. If this was all she would get, temporary illusions, she would enjoy their presence while they were there.

"Have I finally lost it? Am I completely mad or have you finally returned to my side? Have all my prayers to the Angel of Music been answered? Are you mine once again?" she asked, tears of joy filling her eyes as she stared up at the man she had longed for for seven years, her heart attempting to trick her again and again.

Wrapping his arms tighter around his Christine, the dark man simply smiled and kissed her forehead protectively. Then, he noticed the gash on her cheek. He stood silent for a moment, the torment of a storm of emotions flying through his eyes. He slowly reached up to run his thumb over it, which she did not even wince at.

"You're hurt, my angel." he responded softly, guilt filling him. He should have stopped this madness sooner.

"I'm perfect. I am once again in your embrace, better than I have been since we last parted. I've mourned for you for seven years, and, yet, here you are; in my arms and my life returned through heaven's blessings. I'm so fortunate to be with you again. I love you." Christine rambled, burying her face into his chest once again.

The phantom led the woman to his carriage outside, placing her within it. Before he shut the door, he promised her he would swiftly return after a quick speaking to the carriage driver. She nodded understandingly and allowed her lover to softly shut the door of the vehicle.

As she watched, he left from the view of the window. Her heart lurched as the carriage started to move. No! No, this couldn't be! He wouldn't dare after all these years. She had just gotten him back.

As she tried frantically to open the door, she discovered it was locked. She could not exit the carriage, only turn and watch the carriage depart the asylum. She searched for him, attempting to spot him in the street or in front of the building, but there was nothing and no one to be seen behind her.

She was so sure it was him, but where had he gone? Had his love faded? Why had he left her alone again? Surely, he wouldn't do such a thing. But he had. If it truly was him.

Convinced she was truly mad and being sent to somewhere more horrid, gave up on her hopes of redemption and love returned, and fell asleep in the carriage, as she was exhausted from the day.


	6. Ghost in the Mirror

When Christine awoke again, she was in her dressing room. If her hands were not still wrapped and her dress still torn and bloodied, she'd have thought the whole experience was simply a nightmare. Quite frankly, it was a nightmare: her living nightmare.

As she rose from her vanity, her knees gave out and she fell into a pair of arms. Her curls bounced as she quickly turned her head to see who was in her room. She cried out and fell into a chair in the opposite direction of the girl who had caught her. The girl fell to her knees and tears flowed heavily down her face. She did not attempt to move closer to Christine, only sobbed for her wrong doings. Surely her friend could not forgive her this time.

"Christine, I'm so sorry." she got out between sobs. "You were right. I saw him, too. I felt him and he is real, or we both have gone mad."

Christine looked up at the girl at this, shocked by her words.

"He came to you, too?" Could he have moved to love another? Could Meg be his new angel? Is that why he had left alone in the carriage?

"Yes." Meg answered. "In a dream. He told me to save you. That your mourning of him may not take place in such a vile place." She paused. "That's why I did. I came and got you out of-"

"No, you didn't!" Christine cried out, rising to her feet. "He came to me! He saved me from the asylum and the nasty guard! He called me his angel once more!" She refused to believe this lie Meg was trying to sell her.

Meg rose, gently, and put her hand on her sister's shoulder. Surely he should have known this would happen. She had told him so.

"No, Christine, it was I who came and bailed you out. I don't expect you to remember correctly, though, as you were half delusional after all you had been through. They had put some kind of drug substance into your system to calm you after you were attacked. They stuck it in your thigh. That's why your dress was ripped by the guard." she rambled off the story that he had created for her to tell. An expertise at creating these fantastical tales.

Christine did not respond at first, resigning herself to shaking her head frantically. She would deny what her friend said until she didn't have air in her lungs to do so anymore. She knew exactly what she had gone through. She knew that the dress was ripped when she was attacked and that the man she had hoped and longed for for seven years had returned and saved her. She was sure that this was how the events were occurred.

"Why would you come and release me from there so quickly, if you had been the one to send me there in the the first place? Why save me so quickly? You wouldn't" she spit at her friend.

"I felt horrible, Christine. I was so sorry for what I did. I had to save you. So I did." Meg cried, begging Christine to forgive her for her sins. Not to even mention the dark secret she was hiding now.

Christine looked at her unsure, then hid her face again. What her friend said, she did not want to believe, but was questioning herself nonetheless. Had he really been there for her? Or had it merely been an illusion of her drug-infused mind's chaos? The events that had all been occurring around her each had a completely logical explanation: the curtains fluttering, a loss of blood, mourning, and now a hallucination. Her mind would not accept these reasons, though, as she would be too upset by what they meant.

Unable to respond to Meg at this time, too overwhelmed by emotion and thought alike, Christine simply rose from her position and turned to her old friend, steady on her feet this time. She couldn't meet Meg's eyes as she asked the younger girl to depart her dressing room so she could have time to think.

Meg, as her blonde curls bounced, nodded and turned to depart. Her heart heavy with the information she longed to tell her friend, she went out the door and closed it behind her gently.

Christine, alone, sank into her chair. She had not the mindset nor energy to remain standing for too long. She was left in utter confusion. Would he return again? Had he returned to her the first time? She was so sure, but Meg had easily countered everything she had thought, proving it wrong easily. The black of his clothing and the white of the mask upon his face stuck in her mind as she willed him to appear in her mirror one last time and whisk her away, if only so she could apologize for the time long gone by and say her goodbye. The goodbye he deserved.

"If only you were here now, there's so much I long to say." Christine said softly aloud, her voice echoing in the room that felt so empty. "I wish I could see you again, run my hand over your face. Tell you how sorry I am."

As she turned to her mirror to fix herself before going back out into the theater, she saw what she had hoped for in it. His face, unchanged in the least, staring back at her, next to her own reflection.

"Are you really returned? If you have, why do you play these tricks on my mind and heart? Is it really you in this mirror I see?" she asked softly, afraid he would disappear if she spoke too loud. She did not want him to disappear, that was for sure.

"I am as real as you wish me." he replied, his face remaining placid and calm. "If you call for me, I shall appear, but if you do not wish for me, I will not."

"But where were you when I was all alone? Where were you for seven years? I've wished for you all along, and have not seen you." she argued.

"I was here all along, my angel. You simply did not see me. You were not prepared before. You are still not. In order for me to return to you, I would have been required to leave you. I never left you. I have been beside you. I am within your soul. I am part of you. I will never leave you." the phantom spoke.

"But are you real? Or simply a vision of my mourning and desperation? Please tell me." she begged of her ghastly visitor.

"That is up to you, my love. You must decide the answer yourself. Then you inform me." he answered her. "I must depart now. I shall return when your mind and heart have decided. Goodbye, my angel. Care for yourself."

And with that, the strange reflection left the mirror, leaving Christine alone in her dressing room again.


	7. Twisted Pathways to the Past

As he backed away from the mirror, the man in the mask tried not to let his immense pain show. He had come to Christine, saved her again, allowed her to see and hear him, even to grasp onto him. The decision was hers now. If she wished for his return into her life, he would happily oblige, but at a safe distance. If she wished him gone, then with heartbreak he would not come to her again. To say he would disappear and never see her again, even from afar, would be to shatter his own self, and he dared not do such a thing. His heart was already too fragile when she entered it.

It glowed and smashed all at the same time when she sang his song the other night. As she sang about the Angel of Music, he had never been happier. Except for perhaps when they were together before, her hand entwined in his and her lips pressed his own. A wonderful combination of beauty and horror twisted into a melodic fantasy. What a lovely time that was indeed.

As these thoughts swirled, he headed back into the cold depths of the catacombs. He would continue to compose as long as she would stay with him, in this theater that the first met. For he had spent millions to restore the Opera Populaire after the devastating fire, determined to make it more beautiful than it ever was, all for her. It was always all for her. He had made sure to give her the theater she deserved. For a star must have the largest crowds, and this theater would do just that. Draw in all the people she deserved to be seen by.

And it had. The theatre now stood as the most popular and austere in all of France, some said all of Europe. And his Christine was the headliner of it, as she deserved to be. He would not permit anyone else to sing in it. She was the only prima donna that would shine on his stage.

As he entered the box he so loved, he was surprised to find the blonde awaiting his arrival. So much so, he was so caught up in his thoughts at first that she went unnoticed. Once she cleared her breath, however, he saw her.

"Did you see her?" Meg questioned the man. "Did you go and visit her?" she demanded.

The man sighed and resigned himself to her questioning. He knew he could not avoid it and that she had only Christine's best interest in mind.

"Yes. I went to see her." he confessed.

"Then why must I lie to her?! I wish to be honest with her! For her to have no secrets from me and I from her! Why are you putting yourself between us? Are you jealous because I did not leave her? I have been with her these last seven years by her side, while you disappeared? Do you know how often she searched for you desperately? How she wished for you every goddamn night and you were nowhere to be found? How many nights she wept herself to sleep, wishing she was in your arms? What you've done to her? Why-"

"Enough!" the man harshly cut off the girl, unable to stand anymore of her questions. " _She_ left _me_ , don't forget! I wished to stay by her side for an eternity, but _she_ chose to leave me! I loved her! I would have loved her forever and never shown her any of the pain she goes through now, but she chose to leave with _him!_ I had no way to stop her, no matter how hard I tried! And, believe me you, I tried! I tried time and time again, but she chose him...she always chose him. I was enough for her until her saw her that night. He had not spoken to her in years while I had cared for her every moment since she entered my presence! I tried so hard so often and she left me in a moment for the man who had not spoken to her in years! Why do you not see that? She shattered everything that I am, all parts of me and everything I had given her! To put myself in her arms and get rejected again would surely have killed me." He was now sobbing, trying to get out questions between breaths, his body racking as he fell to his knees.

It was then Meg saw exactly how broken the man was without her friend. How Christine had destroyed everything he held dear, and escaped with his heart nonetheless. How terrifying and exciting to have someone love you so intensely, Meg thought. What a wonder! She knelt down beside the broken man, resting a hand on his cloaked shoulder as he flinched at her touch.

"So I will allow her to be in control once again." he said after a long pause. "If she wishes me to be alive and at her side, then shall I be. If not, I shall not visit her any longer. I shall remain a memory to her and nothing more."

How touching, his words. How wonderfully beautiful he could configure these sentences into a melodic monologue. How she understood what Christine had missed so much in his absence. Feeling his despair, Meg gently put her hand on his chin and rose it until their eyes met.

"She loves you. Christine loves you and wishes to be with you again. She always has, even when Raoul left with her. She was afraid of breaking your heart, however. Now I see she has done exactly what she wished not to do." Meg assured him.

The phantom met eyes with the young girl, unsure of her answer. She could be lying to him, getting back at him for when he attacked her. He could trust no one.

"When I hear it from her, then shall I believe it. Until then, I shall remain the ghost she left of me." he said, rising from the floor. He exited the box, robes billowing behind him as he departed.

Meg could say nothing, but watched in sheer amazement as such a beautifully strange man headed to the darkness below the theater, the darkness which he came from and thrived in. She knew what she had to do.


	8. Mysterious Figures

As Christine had pondered day in and out about what the man in the mirror had said, she began to realize: the choice was not a hard one. She had spent hours and days in her dressing room, receiving only Meg and the stage manager. She did not have the heart nor energy to speak to anyone else.

She was due to perform again tonight and she was so extremely nervous: would he be in attendance? If she looked to his box, would his dark eyes be on her, mesmerizing her once more? She hoped so with all her heart. She longed for it. She longed for him. He had said, if she wished him present, there would he be. She wished him present now with all her might. She wished for him to watch her perform tonight, her only way of thanking him for all he had done for her.

"Five minutes, Miss Daaè." the stage manager called through her door.

Taking a large gulp of air and downing the remainder of her water, she rose and flattened out her dress. One he had gifted to her, long ago. The engraved stones made her shine like stars when the stage lights hit them. Surely he had done it on purpose. An optical illusion that contorted the mind, his favorite trick to play on the world he had created in this theater.

A world she held so dear, she never wished to leave it. She could stay in this building and the hidden secrets within and underneath forever, content in his mystery. A world she knew complexed the mind and, yet, she understood it perfectly. She knew the beauty within the madness, how something so dark and haunting could be gorgeous, if only approached with an open mind.

"Miss Daaè, you're on!" the stage manager called again, pulling the woman from her thoughts.

She exited her dressing room, softly shutting the door behind it, after looking behind her one final time. Hopefully when she returned to this room, she would never be alone again.

Taking but one more deep breath, she walked out from the wings of the stage and into the bright light of the stage's illuminations. She would sing this time as she had sung only once before, she would sing for him. Putting her heart, soul, and love on the line, she would attempt to pay the song all the due it was worth.

As she began the song, she couldn't resist the urge to look into his box. As she expected it to stand empty and desolate as it had all of her previous performances, she was shocked to find him, staring back down at her longingly. She could not help as the smile spread across her face, thanking God for the reunion she had awaited for forever.

As she continued to watch, however, she noticed he was not alone in the box. In fact, there was one other figure in the box, Christine wished desperately not to recognize but her mind was at war with itself as she remarked how Meg was also in the box, standing at the Phantom's side.

What Christine did not see, however, was that the strange man did not even notice the girl at his side, despite the fact that he had invited her in with him. He was so focused on his love, he cared nothing for the blonde. His whole mind and heart were on the stage, staring back at him and looking like a astral goddess. As the small stars shined in her hair and on her dress, in his eyes she was absolutely perfect. His Angel of Music. His Christine.

As Christine continued to perform, tears began to brim her eyes. Meg had lied. He had saved her. He had been here all along, alive and fine, but Meg had told her she was insane, imaging things. Dear goodness, she had even sent her off to the mad house a few days ago. Was it all because Meg wanted him all to herself? Was there something going on she was missing? No, her best friend would not do such a thing. She had believed the same thing until her supposed "sister" had sent her off, though. Could it be?

Christine finished the aria, her heart shattered into a million pieces and her mind gone numb. As soon as the melody ended, she took a quick bow and sped off backstage, not waiting to hear the applause that echoed through the halls of the Opera Populaire, bringing life to it once more. She did not even see the man in box 5 rise to his feet, granting his muse a standing ovation, and Meg cheered along with him.

She rushed into her dressing room, slamming and barring the door behind her. She gasped for breath as tears that had been held in flowed freely, her heart racing like violins at a crescendo. Surely this couldn't be happening. Meg and her Angel? Her love, turned to another woman? How could this be?

As knocks came at the door, she ignored them. First the stage manager, checking that she was alright. She choked out a confirmation that she was just fine and shooed him off to other work. It must have left, as he departed, but the moment she dreaded followed shortly thereafter.

A quiet knock at her door, then a soft voice followed. A voice of her closest friend, her competition for his heart. Friend or foe? Christine was not sure any longer.

"Christine? May I enter?" the performer could not find words to reply. "Christine, you did so well! It was wonderful! You looked like an angel, too! A true dream come true, you were!" Meg went on and on, in her usual manner. "Oh Christine! He loved it! He was so happy to see you perform!"

At the mention of the mysterious man of darkness, she unbarred the door and opened it. She stood, a fire flaming in her porcelain cheeks and blue eyes turned to waters of a hurricane.

"How dare you speak of him! As if you know what's going on in his mind?! Tell me, Meg, how long have you known that he was alive? You wouldn't dare lie to me about something like that, now would you?" Christine fumed.

The look on her face told Christine all she needed to know. Meg had known. She had lied to her friend. Clear as day, it was shown.

"Christine! I'm so sorry! He begged me not to tell you! He threatened me! That's why my neck was covered for days after you returned! I wished to tell you so horribly, but I feared for my life!" Meg begged, willing her best friend to believe her.

Christine felt her sister was telling her the truth, but she truly was unsure anymore. Could she trust Meg? Could she trust her maestro? Could she trust anyone? Her head began to spin. She felt weak at the knees again.

"Oh my goodness! You look positively ghastly, my friend! Come and sit." Meg instructed, leading Christine to a chair in the massive dressing room. She fetched her a glass of water. "Drink this. Don't you dare faint. I won't have it. Mother would be disappointed in me." Meg said, ushering around her friend like a trained nurse.

"I see so much of her in you. She would. be so proud of who you are, Meg." Christine said, resting her pale hand on her friend's cheek as Meg stared up at her.

"You really think so?" she asked, her eyes begging for an honest answer.

"Of course I do." Christine replied softly. However, the question was still burning inside her. It needed to be asked. "Meg, do you care for the Phantom?"

Meg's head of curls shot up quickly, a look of confusion crossed her face.

"Of course not! I don't even know him, Christine! How could I ever do such thing to you? No, sister, I care for another." Meg said assuredly, her voice steady and convincing.

The confession took Christine by surprise.

"Another? Whom is it you care for?" she asked.

"Remi." her friend answered, blushing. It looked quite unnatural with her pale face and light blonde curls.

"The new stage manager?" Christine didn't believe it. Sure, he was handsome and kind, hard-working and loyal... Perhaps she could see why her friend had fallen for him. She had been blind to his attractions, however, as only her angel rested on her mind. "Oh, you two would be such an attractive pairing! Has he courted you at all?"

"Oh, only in the shiest ways, but I feel a connection to him. A strange and deep connection. We are going to supper tomorrow evening and I need your help preparing in the afternoon, if you'd be so willing?" she looked doe-eyed at her sister. Immediately, Christine felt foolish for having believed her close friend could do such a thing as court her lover.

"Of course! We will talk later, but is _he_ around? I wish to see him and speak to him."

"Oh, you know his ways, he will come when you are alone and wishing for him the most." Meg said, beginning to gather her belongings from the room. "So I must depart so he can come to you. I will speak to you come tomorrow morning. I promise. Have a wonderful night." Having said this, Meg departed the dressing room, leaving Christine to wait alone for her lover's presence to come to her.


	9. When He Heard Her Sing Once More

Shortly after Meg departed, Christine was fixing her makeup. She was so focused in the mirror, she did not even notice when the face appeared next to her. When he spoke, she frightened until she recognized the baritone drawl.

"You were truly magnificent, my angel. You reminded me of all those years ago, when we together before. When the music echoed like the cries of gods." he remarked.

Christine needed not add more rouge to her cheeks, as she was now blushing significantly at such passionate words. She smiled at her maestro, so grateful for him being here. As she reached out and rested her palm on the mirror, he reciprocated the action. The warmth of their touch transferred to the other through the mirror, making chills run through Christine's body like electricity.

"Thank you, maestro. It is my honor to perform for you. I would perform every day for you if I could. I do not see you so often any longer, though. I long for you, but you do not come." She said, hoping her words were enough to make him stay with her for a long duration this time.

The phantom bowed his head at this, knowing he had hurt her unintentionally attempting to protect himself. He thought she would have feared and rejected him, though. He had never imagined that she longed for him just as much as he longed for her.

Such thoughts were never in his mind. Such a beautiful woman, longing for a monster like him. Surely, it was not possible, and, yet, here she was, begging him to return to her once again. So he would allow her back into his world of darkness and mystery, should she allow it.

Allow it she would. She had missed the silhouette of shadows and air of mystery, cursing herself for leaving it in the first place. Her heart had never left him nor his world, she realized now. The world she lived in was not even a world without him in it.

"I have heard your music every waking moment in my soul. I hope I was able to serve it the beauty it is owed." she said softly into her mirror.

"My notes play and speak only your beauty. Without you, the music does not come. The crescendos, the melodies, all of it is you. You are my muse, my Angel of Music. You always have been, since the moment I first laid my eyes upon your angelic figure." he proclaimed.

"Then return to me. Allow me to press my lips to your face once more. Bring your air of unseen beauty to my life once more. I will not leave you this time. I swear it." she begged him, bringing her other hand to the mirror.

The phantom looked down at her hands, reaching out for him. Then he glanced back to her longing eyes, begging for him to return to her. She truly was his. But he had seen this from her before, and she had left. Why should he allow her to shatter him once again?

And so he pulled his hand back from the transparent surface. This caused Christine to look up, concerned. He was her Angel. Now that she knew he was real, she would not imagine a world without him. She refused to. So, as he backed away from the mirror, Christine cried out.

"Do not leave me! I know not why you depart, but don't leave me, I beg of you! I've missed for so long, I know not what to do without you!"

"I have no choice, my love." the man replied faintly. "For if I stay, I condemn you to a life in shadows and mockery, haunting this theater like a ghost. Hiding your gorgeous doll-like face from the world. I cannot do that to you."

As he finished, the phantom turned and walked further away from his love and the soft sobs he could hear coming from her. He wouldn't dare look back and break both their hearts. He knew that in time she would find someone knew, not worthy of her, but not one that would keep her bound to the depths of darkness like he would. He was assured of it as he watched the other men in the audience view her tonight. Yes, she would have a prosperous life of riches and beauty. Not one of shadows and scars.

"Please. Don't leave me." Christine begged once more.

He did leave her, though, as he fled into the depths below her dressing room, cursing his appearance. Cursing the fact that he had allowed himself to make his living appearance known to her. He should have stayed in his shadows, curse it all! To do this to both their hearts, to rehash the wound that had scarred them both. Truly he was mad.

He had to leave. He had to disappear forever. He just had to.

What he did not see, however, was Christine behind him. Determined not to lose her love once more, she had decided to follow him this time. She tried to pry open the mirror, only to discover he had made sure it was shut tight and sealed. She tried again with all her might, but still could not open it.

Knowing her time was fleeting quickly, she panicked. Taking a quick glance around the room, she spotted a ceramic vase of daisies sitting on her vanity. Hoping that it would assist her, Christine grabbed the vase, dumped the flowers and water carelessly, and headed to the mirror.

With a strong swing, she smashed the mirror to bits and carefully, stepped through into the catacombs. She was done with others deciding for her what paths she would take and who she would love. It was her turn now to write her own story.

Christine descended the dark catacombs after her true love, determined to be with him for as long as she would live in this cruel world. She would find her Angel of Music, and never leave his side again.


	10. I Shall Be Yours

Christine soon shed her hoop skirt, leaving her able to fit down the hallways more deftly. She would not lose her love this time. As she descended further, the darkness took on a life of its own. So much so, that she had to grab a candelabra off of the wall and hold it at the level of her eye, just to see her hand in front of her face.

As fear entered her heart, she simply reminded herself of what she was here for.

 _You shall not fail,_ she chanted in her head, _You shall not fail._

He would say this to her before every performance she did. He would appear in her dressing room mirror and say this until she was unafraid any longer. It had worked every time. She smiled now as her pace got stronger and quicker. She would find him. She would saved him as he had saved her all those times. She loved him.

As she turned a familiar corner, she ended up where she had wanted. She was here. She could recall it through dreams, visions, and memories. She had longed to return for seven years, and at long last she had.

It had not changed. It was just as she had left it, just as she had remembered it: perfectly pristine and hypnotizing. Every arch, every brick, every passageway just as it had been. How grateful she was, that her fantasy was real. her memories were true. She would be alone no longer.

She took every step as she had, slowing for the first time in her long journey. By memory, she knew what rocks to step on, avoiding the ones she had known as slippery or dangerous, as he had shown her. She was so focused on getting to her destination, though, that she missed the step and fell into the water below.

Splashing about, trying to find how deep the water was, Christine finally found the rock she had slipped from and climbed back on. Cursing herself for missing such a simple step, Christine looked down at her now-drenched dress and hair. Surely the gorgeous dress was ruined and her a sopping mess.

But she had to continue. So, ripping a piece of fabric from her sleeve, Christine tied back her dark curls and continued onto her final destination. Into his lair of music. Into his presence once again.

When she arrived, she looked around, unsure whether she was awake. She was, she confirmed to herself. This was her new home. She would stay here forevermore. She would be with him. She would be his Angel of Music. Even if she didn't exactly look like an angel right at that moment.

Quite frankly, she didn't even look presentable, but she knew her never cared for her looks. He cared for her. All of her, her music, her heart, her soul. He always had.

She began to walk around the small cavern, leaving a trail of water behind her as her dress dragged. She finally arrived at the massive dark piano, the very instrument that held her heart's deepest longings. She began to softly play a song that was still in her mind from long ago. A song he had played as she slept in this very room.

"Why did you come? How did you follow me?" he asked from behind her. Christine did not flinch or jump this time. She simply turned to face her love.

When their eyes met, the electricity shot through her again. He was hers. He was alive. He was real. He rose his hand to softly caress her cheek and she leaned softly into his touch. Yes. He was hers. She would never leave him again.

"I smashed the mirror." she responded, not opening her eyes. "It was not kind of you to barricade it."

Hearing her actions, he pulled , feeling the loss of his touch, opened her eyes to look up at him. She saw confusion and fear upon his face.

"You smashed the mirror. You followed me here. You fell in the lake, as one can see." he listed off, his voice unsure. "Come, my love. You will be ill if you stay in those wet clothes down here. I will not permit it."

With this, the phantom offered Christine his hand as she rose. She took it, the softness of her palm against the course surface of his. He guided her to a door, opening it or her to enter through. She stepped through, not releasing her hold of him. He followed her, allowing the door to shut behind him.

"But the dress-" Christine started.

"Nonsense. I have another for you." he said, motioning to a dress much more beautiful than the one she had ruined, if that was even possible. Apparently it was.

As she stared as the gown, her words left her. The texture of the fabric was as soft as a feathered pillow. She dared not guess the number of threads in it. Not to mention how austere and elegant the dress was. The fabric simply glowed in the light.

"I will you to change. When you are finished, come back out to the piano and we shall discuss what to do now." he said, leaving her to dress. He shut the door softly behind him.

As he walked over to the piano, he began to softly play a tune she had called to his mind from years ago. When she reentered the room, he froze and the music died. How gorgeous she was in anything she wore. Similar to a goddess, she rendered him into a silence. How could she love a monster like him? And, yet, here she was, standing in his lair of music, having risked her life to be with him. He could not imagine it. Thankfully, he did not have to; it was real.

"Does it appear well?" she asked, glancing down at her apparel.

"Y-yes. You look perfect. You always do." he answered her, pulling himself from his speechlessness. "Come. Sit with me. We have much to discuss." He said and motioned to her to join him on the piano bench.

Obediently, she did, coming to sit just beside him. He took a sharp breath in. She was so close. He looked up and met her eyes. So beautiful. He was so undeserving of her.

"We have much to discuss, my love." he said to her. He put her hands in his again. Yes, they had much to discuss indeed.


	11. By the Light of the Candles

As he tried his best to memorize how it felt to have her hands in one of his, holding tight, the phantom tried so hard not to get ahead of himself. He dared not scare her away. Though he was unsure now if he could. She had truly accepted him for who he was, and that was what scared him the most. Terrified and amazed him at the same time, the same effect he had had on her when they were first together.

A miracle dream in the disguise of a nightmare. An foreign recollection of long ago mixed with an outlandish hope for the future to come. A future in which they would hopefully be together. He would do all that her could to protect her. To protect this refuge of adoration that they had found themselves in.

"Christine, you are not the same." he said, mournfully, unable to keep his emotions at bay.

Christine took a long pause, waiting for him to continue and unsure as to how to respond. When she found she had not other option, she tried to respond in one of the few ways she could.

"I have changed. I am not as blind or naïve as I was once. I am also no longer a fool to the whims of youth. I have seen the world for what it truly is: a devilish horror of condemnation. I have seen how rare it is for someone to truly and deeply love you as you do me." she said, then waited, afraid of his reaction.

"My dear love, my Angel of Music, that is all true. There is much more than that, though." he replied. "Your heart has changed. It is not the same heart that captured me seven years ago. It is one that has fought a great and hard war. A heart that has been shattered and destroyed, yet learned to love again all the same. Your music and light that radiates like sun's rays from inside of you is so beautifully tragic and bright at the same time. It thrills me and haunts me. It drives me mad to not be able to understand you. Yet, it enthralls me and calls to me all the more. I am afraid to take such a treasured item into my care. I am afraid I would hurt you or ruin its perfection in some way. So, if we are to continue, I would need you to be honest with me at all times. No hidden facts or misleading words. If you come to no longing care for me at any point, you must tell me and leave. Do not stay out of pity, for a pity-drawn love is the worst kind of all. Can you promise me this?"

As he finished, Christine looked down at her hands in his strong one, his calloused thumb running protectively and comfortingly over her knuckles. To imagine a time where she did not care for him or dared to leave him behind seemed impossible. She wished to be here, in his strong arms, forever.

She leaned in slowly and softly pressed her lips to his. She smiled into the kiss, fireworks illuminating behind her shut , she would be his forever. After a few moments that seemed eternally long, he pulled back, looking at her expectantly, searching for an answer.

"I promise I shall do this, even though in my mind and heart, I find only your words and songs. I find only you in my deepest longings, and cannot imagine a time without you in my life. I'll stay forever if you'll allow me." she told him, hoping he shared her compassion.

He was overjoyed by her words. The melody that played in his mind soared, crescendoing louder than ever before. He had gotten all he had wanted from this life, he would never long for anything again. She had granted him everything he had ever longed for. He had no words for how grateful he was to her. She was his Angel of Music, seeing in him what no one else could.

He turned back to her, kissing her with much more passion than before. Now that he knew she was his, he would never be in pain again. She moved her one hand to rest on his forearm, overjoyed that she was no longer in despair. The hearts united to create the most gorgeous music the pair had ever heard, their souls soaring in unison.

"I must return you, as much as it pains me. You have a young friend waiting for your presence. A fine young woman, and I shall not keep you selfishly. For a life lived only in the depths of these catacombs is not a full life at all. So you must go, but I shall return with you until she is there. I will not keep you longer than I am owed, but will not depart early either." he promised.

Christine rose swiftly to her feet at this, her heart racing. Whether from the kiss or the thought of having to leave him, she was unsure.

"I will not leave you. I wish not to return there. Meg can come to my dressing room when she wants to see me, and there shall I be. I find no need to ever leave this small piece of heaven you've created here. You say I am your angel, do angels not belong in heaven? Not among the people who judge and sin, but among others like them, others who understand what no one else will. You understand. You are an angel. You are _my_ angel. Forever." she claimed quickly, begging it would be enough for him to permit her to stay a bit longer.

"Nonsense. I love you, but will not keep you as a prisoner here. Your chains are released. Even angels must learn to grow their wings and fly. They help those on the earth, save them. I know of a young blonde woman who needs your assistance, Christine, and to her you must now go."

As he offered her his hand, she took it obligingly and smiled. His hands were no longer the cold she remembered, but a warm and welcoming grasp, covering and protecting her timid own. And so he led her back out of the catacombs and through the smashed mirror, into her dressing room, where he knew the girl would find her.

He let her lie on the loveseat in her room, as she appeared exhausted from the night's events. Before he could fully depart back to his darkness, she shot up quickly and called out to him.

"Wait!"

"What is it, my love?"

"Promise me you'll return to me soon. I can't bear to be without you for so long again." she said, her emotions in her eyes.

He returned to her side, knelt down gently beside her and kissed her lightly on her forehead.

"I promise. For now, get some rest. You were wonderful tonight, but even goddesses need rest."

And, as he sat by her side, holding her hand gently, Christine drifted off to sleep, his face and lyrics in her mind and heart. She smiled in her sleep, and for the first time in years both the man and woman were happy, unaware of what the morning had in store for them. For, watching from box three on the very same night, was a very drunken and very bitter Raoul, who had sworn his revenge on the couple for all he blamed them for.


	12. The Man and the Monster

As Christine slept, the back door of the theater swept open and a dark figure turned towards it from the alley. He approached the man in the doorway.

"You're sure she's here?" he asked strictly, keeping his voice nearly inaudible.

"I'm positive. She hasn't left her dressing room since after the performance. The blonde told me she would rest and to not expect to see her until perhaps tomorrow morning. So peculiar, is it not?" the burly man in the door stated.

The figure inched closer, causing the larger man to be rather uncomfortable in his presence. Finally, he spoke again, his voice still hushed.

"Not at all. She may seem outgoing, but she is a timid girl without much gall. She tires easily." he explained. "Now, let me in before we are questioned."

Having said that, Raoul pushed his way past the man and into the hall lined with doors. The end one in the corner was hers. She had always chosen that one. He turned to his accomplice.

"Stay here. Don't draw attention to yourself. If something goes wrong, get me the hell out of here without questioning. Understood?" he barked sharply.

The man nodded once and Raoul, satisfied, took off toward the door at the end of the hall. Without knocking, he silently opened the door and stepped in. He found that the lights were off and the frail woman was resting on the settee. Careful not to wake her, the devious man attempted to make his way across the room in the darkness.

After a few steps, he felt his foot prick on something sharp through his boot, and swore under his breath. What the devil, that was that sharp, could be on the floor? Having no other option, he lit a few lamps and found that, in fact, his foot was bleeding and the thing he had stepped on was a shard of the mirror that was smashed to bits. Why had she done such a thing? Why had she rushed offstage so quickly tonight?

Suddenly, like the pieces of the mirror once had, the man fit all of the pieces together. _He_ had returned. She had rushed off to see him. She had returned to the catacombs with him willingly. She had moved on. A flaming fury of rage engulfed the drunk and he knew he had to hurry. The situation was much worse than he first imagined.

Limping slightly, he made his way across the room to the lady and grabbed her fiercely, awakening her. She woke with a fright, flinging her hand out and smacking him in the face. The ex-fiance did not take kindly to this. Grabbing her wrist, he yanked her off her resting place and close to his face, where his haunting grin was plastered evilly.

"Raoul?" Christine gasped out, her heart racing from the attack. "No! Get off!" she cried out, fighting forcefully.

As she fought, still half-asleep, she knew her swift movements were clumsy and not landing with force. Raoul easily pulled her closer to the door, closer toward the hell she knew would await her out there. She tried one last time.

"Wait! Raoul! Wait!" she begged and, just for a moment, the struggle ceased. The man looked to the woman who was in his arms, who backed away quickly.

She turned to face him, her eyes wide in fear as he stared menacingly at her. How could she have ever chosen this over her guardian angel?

"Raoul, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I've come to take you with me. Away from this darkness that consumes and controls your soul. You're possessed by the memories this place holds!" he yelled at her, some of his untamed hair falling into his face, making him look simply mad.

"I am not possessed by this place, Raoul. I'm very happy here, in fact." she returned softly, trying to not upset him.

"Not, _he_ makes you think you are! You are not _happy_ here! You don't love that _monster_! He has twisted your mind with his darkness to make you believe that you do!" Raoul snapped, spitting as he spoke.

Christine stepped lightly away from the man, smelling the alcohol that had clung itself to his mouth and clothes. He had truly drenched himself in it. Seeing her action, the rage flared up in him again. How dare she look at him that way! The same way she had looked at the monster in the depths when he had killed one of the scumbags that worked at the theater.

"Do not _dare_ look at me that way! I am here to save you from the hell that lies within these walls!" he sneered at her.

She laughed lightly, tears in her eyes of fear and pity.

"That's what you never understood, what you still don't understand. This is my heaven. It was never a place of darkness or fear. I have always loved this theater." Christine explained, and the shift in Raoul's eyes changed to a mode even more dangerous than before.

"Enough of this nonsense! You fled this theater with me before and will do it again now. I am not asking this of you. I am demanding it. We must leave. Now." He spoke sharply and pointed to the door of the dressing room.

Terrified and longing for another option, Christine saw none and headed to the door.

"Oh!" she called out as she tripped in front of the shattered mirror. Blood seeped from multiple places on her arms and upper body. She had been cut in multiple locations, but not impaled or seriously injured.

Thinking quickly, Christine gathered a few broken shards and tucked them in the folds of her gown. Surely, she had a horrible curse of ruining every gorgeous gown she wore.

As Raoul grabbed her forearm roughly and yanked her off the ground, she cried out lightly in pain. Ignoring her, Raoul headed for the exit once again. When he was almost out of the room, Meg came bouncing around the corner.

"Christine, did you see-" she stopped abruptly, seeing the scene before her. She took a second, noting the blood on Christine's dress and tears running down her face.

Before she could get a word out of Christine, however, the older girl fainted. The blonde guessed it was from loss of blood. She turned to the wicked man beside her friend. Seeing his opportunity, Raoul rushed out a practiced explanation.

"Please, help me. The dark phantom came to her, trying to lure her away from you. She was telling him as much as she loved him, she could not leave you alone in this world. Not without your mother. He had her in the back alley when I heard her cry out and jumped into action. She escaped and ran back into the theater. He pursued, and so did I. When he got her back here, he attacked and she fell on the glass. I came in from behind him, and he fled back to the catacombs. We need to get her to the hospital. Quickly now, I have a carriage prepped outside." he begged her, hoping the daft blonde would fall for it.

Fall for it, she did. She got underneath Christine's other arm and assisted the drunkard. They were out the door and in the alleyway when Meg saw the glass in Christine's dress. Surely, she wouldn't have had it there if she hadn't been in panic mode. And why would the phantom try to pull Christine _out_ of the theater if he lived under it? It didn't add up. Something was off, and she didn't like being fooled.

Not trusting Raoul, she pulled one of the shards into the pocket of her costume and put Christine down gently in the back of the carriage. She heard Raoul curse quietly.

"Where is Remi?" he said harshly. "I told him to be here with the carriage."

Now Meg was sure something was wrong. Raoul would not know Remi by name if he had just met him tonight. They wouldn't have had time yet to do that if they were chasing Christine. No, there was something undoubtedly and terribly wrong.

"Looking for your accomplice, you horrible snake?" the voluminous echo came from on top of the carriage. Meg looked up and saw the dark man.

Raoul, panicked, pulled out his gun. The phantom appeared unafraid of the metal object, simply cocked his head to one side and laughed deeply.

"You fool! You think I won't die for her, unlike you! I actually _love_ her!" he called to the man below him.

"Where is my brother?!" Raoul replied, foaming at the mouth.

"Control your temper, Monsieur. There are two ladies in your presence." the phantom said, nodding to Meg, and she knew what he meant instantly.

Leaping into action, Meg stepped to Raoul as he turned to face her and pressed the largest shard against his chest. He froze in his actions, looking to Meg.

"Meg, don't do this. I beg of you." he pleaded with her.

"You've stolen joy from Christine for the last time. I will not allow your tricks any longer. Drop the gun, Raoul." she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. As he did what she commanded, she kicked the weapon away with her heeled boot. She would not be a fool to anyone any longer. "Monsieur Phantom, take Christine back to her dressing room. I will be in shortly to tend to her wounds."

Nodding, the dark man left off the roof of the carriage and gently lifted his love from the interior. He headed inside the theater, back to return her to safety. Raoul watched on furiously. Once the pair was inside, Meg spoke again.

"Now, to deal with you, you little cockroach." she said determinedly.

"My brother will never forgive you for any of this." he spat at her.

"Brother?" she questioned, her pressure not as intense for a second.

"Remi." he answered with his evil smirk. "Yes, the very man you fancy is my younger brother. Go ahead and kill me, and watch him disappear and hate you forever."

As her mind twisted in a million ways, Meg moved her weaponized hand to her side. As Raoul looked on, tears filled the eyes of young Meg.

"Go." she whispered.

"What?" he asked, leaning in so she could smell the alcohol on his clothes.

"Go, Said!" she cried out hatefully. "Go and never return! If you ever bother any of us again, brother or not, I shall kill you!" She cried out as tears ran down her face.

"Remi was right: you are nothing but a pretty fool!" Raoul laughed evilly and tore from the alley, leaving Meg alone and broken as she fell to her knees on the wet cobblestone.


	13. A Shattered Masterpiece

Meg checked silently in Christine's room and saw that she was okay before lightly knocking. The phantom called for her to enter and she did. Wishing to avoid questioning, Meg kept her head hung so he wouldn't see her tear-stained cheeks. It was of no use, though, as the man was all too knowledgeable about how one was to hide his or her appearance.

"Why do you hide your face from me?" he asked. "I know your portrait is much more appealing than my own. There's nothing to be ashamed of when in my presence, child."

At this words, Meg looked at the mysterious man straight on. He sawed her complexion and a look of surprise crossed his face. One look at her friend reminded Meg what she had come for, and she immediately began gathering her medical supplies. Her friend grew paler by the minute and curse her if the drama in her life was to be the reason she died.

The dark man spoke up, but it was of no use. Meg would attend her friend first and then discuss with him. Even when he tried to reach out and grasp her arm to calm her, she looked at him dead on, unafraid.

"We shall discuss the matter after I am finished her." she said sternly and turned back to Christine, yanking her arm from his grip. She was beginning to grow sick of these insolent men.

Allowing the young girl to proceed work on Christine's abdomen, the dark man returned to his place next to the curls falling from the settee. He took her hand and kissed it softly, shutting his eyes as he raised her cold grasp to his forehead. He was praying for her to be well and with him again soon.

Meg looked on as she worked, wondering what it was like to have someone care about you so deeply and eternally. At one time, she had pictured her and Remi in such a position, cherishing one another as Christine did her dark love, but tonight had made her question everything. How could she dare love the brother of the man who had brought her friend so much pain? Did she dare hurt Christine like that?

Tears flooded her eyes as confusion and fear mixed in a flurry of dark visions flashing in her mind. Times with Christine this past decade and moments with Remi growing up. Sure, he may have been new to the theater, but Meg had known the boy for almost her entire life. He had never mentioned Raoul. Sure, he had mentioned an older brother, but never named the kid he had told her tortured and abused him nonstop. To think, it was the boy growing up with Christine just across the city. How remarkable.

She couldn't be frustrated with Remi, no matter how hard she tried. She wished she could hate him, she wished she could put all the anger and fury she had with herself right now and throw it all his way. She couldn't, though, as she remembered his soft brown eyes and child-like smile. As she remembered playing games and skipping rocks with him.

Her favorite memory came to mind as she worked deftly.

The two children stood on the edge of the rocky shore, laughing as the boy skipped rocks across the glassy surface. The young girl tried to reciprocate his actions, but failed miserably, splashing both of them in muddy water. She laughed as the boy turned to her and tapped her on the nose, leaving a small mark of mud.

"Hey!" the young blonde called as her curls bounced playfully. "I'm going to cover you in mud!"

"Only if you can catch me!" he called back and took off, racing up the steep hill next to the small pond.

The girl quickly followed, her dancer side kicking in as she jumped from rock to rock, carefully avoiding any mud that may ruin her pastel tights and dress. She reached the top of the hill, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. Glancing around, she saw no sign of him.

"Gotcha!" he called and jumped out from the woods behind her, scaring the young girl. She fell to the ground, ripping one leg of her tights and covering herself in dirt and who knows what else.

"Oh no!" she cried as she was filled with terror. "Mother's going to beat me! She surely will be infuriated by my dress and tights being ruined! I'll be in so much trouble-"

"You still look beautiful to me." the young boy interrupted her. Without waiting for a response, her plucked a bright flower off the pathway nearby and tucked it in her hair. "See? You're still a princess. A beautiful, ballerina princess."

The girl had blushed uncontrollably, her pale cheeks turning a bright red, like a tomato truck. No one had ever said those words to her. Mother was stern, but she knew it was only to help her. She wished her mother would say something like that more often, but loved her nonetheless.

"Thank you, Remi. Does that make you my knight?" she asked, grinning stupidly.

"Of course! I'll slay the monsters your scared of. In fact, I'll slay anything that ever makes you upset again. Except your mother. She is one thing that scares me too much." he said, slinking from the hero pose he had worn a moment before.

As a thought popped into the young Meg's head, she grew silent and awkward. She hung her head and wrapped her hands around her back.

"I know we are supposed to kiss now, but do we have to?" she asked, not wanting to ruin her friendship with her favorite person on this earth.

"No, we don't. We will write our own story with our own ending." he said, grabbing her hand from behind her back. "Don't worry. We can just do this." he said and skipped off, tugging Meg along with him.

The young girl laughed as the pair skipped and danced and twirled through the summer woods together. What a wonderful world it would be if she could just stay in this place forever, dining through the woods. No mothers that demanded perfection, no big brothers that left bruises and scrapes on her knight, just the two of them, holding hands and adventuring.

"Here." Remi said as he scooped down to pick up something. "My gift to you. Whenever you need a reminder of how beautiful you are, look at this stone and see your reflection, and you'll know how amazing you look to the rest of the world."

Having said this, he gently placed the stone in Meg's open palm and she looked down at it. The face looking back at her had a heavenly glow. She moved her head slightly left and realized her glow was the sun behind her.

Smiling, she grasped the stone tightly in her hand. It truly was perfect, just like the young boy next to her. Her shining, sweet knight.

"I'm finished." Meg said softly.

As she rose and gathered her materials, the dark figure kneeling near her friend looked up and watched her.

"Is she going to be okay?" he finally asked.

It was then Meg turned and saw the concern and fear in his eyes. How scared he appeared. How much he cared about her friend. She knew the feeling too well. Lost and scared, nothing guaranteed and in chance of losing someone you loved deeply. How she understood his position and wished she could do something more to help him, but she couldn't.

"I think so. There weren't as many cuts as I first imagined. The blood just spread quickly. The light color of the dress made it appear worse than it was." she said, trying to detach herself from what was truly happening, to ignore the fact that she had just worked as a surgeon and nurse on her _best friend_ , removing blood and shattered pieces of glass.

Her eyes filled with tears once more, and she willed them back. Christine already had her love to comfort when she awoke, never mind Meg. She did not need the extra worry. So Meg swallowed hard and shook her head once to clear it. It was not the time.

Attempting to not show the interior struggle, Meg grabbed her bag and attempted to depart when the dark figure grabbed her arm once more.

"Thank you, Meg." he said. "You should stay here with us. She will want to see you when she awakes, no doubt." He motioned to the open chair he had pulled up beside him. Unsure of herself, Meg gripped the head of the chair with shaking hands and tried to steady herself.

"Monsieur, I must first speak with Remi and discover his true intentions. I wish not to play this guessing game any longer with him." she said, trying her best to explain her case to the dark man. She wished not to reveal the entire meaning to him of her words, but she sensed he knew nonetheless.

"Understood. I will come and fetch you when she rises. Until then, call if you need anything." he said and turned his attention back to the girl on the settee.

Meg rushed out like a mouse into the hallway, pulling her amulet from beneath her dress. She looked down at the stone it held and, sure enough, there was her reflection. She looked worse for wear now, her complexion pale and ghastly, her eyes having dark pockets despite being so young.

She no longer looked like the young innocent girl Remi had called his princess. Now, she was more of a shadow or phantom herself. However, not all phantoms were horrid, as she had learned these past years. Some were the most kind and giving creatures you knew.

She cursed herself for allowing her heart to have so much power over her mind. Surely she was going mad in this dark place. She needed to escape like Christine had.

Wherever she went, it seemed, she could not be happy. She could not be so fortunate as to find someone like Christine had. At once in her life, it seemed she had found someone like that. Now, she doubted even he could save her from the demons that were found within herself. Tucking the stone necklace back inside her dress, she went in search of her brave protector.

She searched throughout the theater and the back hallways, but it wasn't until she saw the lights lit in her dressing room that it dawned on her that she had not left them on. She pulled the glass shard from it's hiding place that she had kept it in.

Inching slowly forward, unsure with each step whether she could still be considered sane herself, Meg approached the door. She had never been so afraid to go in her own room before. Except for when she knew her mother was waiting in there after a performance. She knew it was never quite good enough to raise praise, but her mother's critiques would help her progress, no matter the pain they made on her.

Being careful to not be too loud, she pushed the door slowly operand glanced in unsteadily. She scanned the room and stopped when her gaze landing on a figure sitting at her vanity. Recognizing the silhouette instantly, she tensed as she entered the room.

"Remi?" she asked, grabbing his attention.

The man turned sharply, his eyes on Meg. She froze for a second, seeing how much pain was in his eyes. How sorry he looked. No, Meg, she thought to herself. You let Raoul fool you that way, too. Brothers think alike. This is not the same boy who was your friend, who was your knight.

"Meg, I'm so sorry. I knew it was wrong, but I was so afraid. He told me he would kill me! I couldn't even imagine what would happen if you were hurt! I am so sorry. I went and got the phantom as soon as I saw you were still here. I swear so." he begged her, tears rushing his cheeks.

He was lying. Meg knew it. The phantom would have mentioned something about it if he knew she was going to find him. He would have told her such a thing. No, she would not fall for this ridiculousness again. She would not prove his statement right. She would not be a _daft blonde bimbo_.

"Remi, get out. Now." she demanded angrily, her glass shard held tight and pointed directly at him.

"Meg, please." he begged.

"No!" she cried "You have made me a liar and a fool for the last time! I was once a puppet for my mother, a little ballerina to fill her needs. Then, I was a puppet to you, but no longer will I allow you to have such power over me! No longer will I allow you to make me appear untrustworthy to my friends and betray them without knowledge. I can't do it anymore, Remi! I can't stand the people I love the most leaving me to be their doll when they need me and ignoring me the rest of the time! I am a _human_ , darn it all! I was your _princess!_ " she gasped, tears steadily flowing down her cheeks. It took a long moment and a few deep breaths for her to regain her composure enough to speak again. "But no longer."

She ripped the chain off her neck which held her beloved stone and threw it at his feet. Both looked at the broken amulet, wishing for times past and to just embrace with their love. To have the happy ending they promised one another all those years ago.

This was not a fairytale, however. Meg knew she was not a gorgeous ballerina princess and Remi certainly did not feel like a brave knight, protecting his love. Instead they both felt like shattered china, puppets who were being controlled and ripped away from happiness by those they were their blood-bound family. Those who did not feel like family, but could not be removed from their lives no matter how hard they tried.

"Meg. I'm so-" Remi started after a long pause.

"No! Don't say it." she snapped sadly. "I've heard it so many times it means nothing to me now. Very little does." she sobbed.

"Please, Meg." he begged. "You mean everything to me."

He tried to reach out to her, but she pulled back hastily.

"You too meant everything to me once. But once upon a time is long gone. We are not children in the woods any longer. Very little means anything to me in this world anymore, and you do not. So, please, just let me be alone." she begged.

"Goodbye, Meg Giry." he said sadly and left, grabbing the amulet from his feet as he departed.

Meg waited until she was sure he was gone and the door was shut.

"Goodye, Remi, my love." she spit out, her heart shattered as the rest of her.

She dropped the glass shard and sank with her back against the door. She sobbed for hours until she wept herself to sleep, dreaming about a young pair of children playing in a fantastical and mysterious forest world.


	14. Without the Pretenses

Christine awoke to a soft humming beside her. Not wanting to open her eyes at first, she was content to simply lie there and listen to the music around her.

Having sensed the motion, though, the phantom abruptly stopped humming and focused his whole attention on his dearest love. As the music stopped, Christine sensed it was time to open her eyes. Sighing, she let her eyes flutter slowly open as she sat up.

As pain ripped through her side, she winced and fell back to the settee. Hands rushed to comfort her, easing her mind and distracting her from the pain. She watched as her lover watched her intensely. His dark eyes filled with worry and something she had seen only once before as she had left him, and even then only slightly, fear.

"I am well." she comforted, placing her hand not top of his. "I feel very little."

After a moment of skepticism, the composer simply nodded and relaxed a bit. Still concerned, his softly pressed his lips to the woman's head.

"You feel so little pain all due to your friend's actions. She is someone who truly cares, and I owe her a lot for your safety." he said, internally blessing the blonde for her compassion and healing abilities.

Christine nodded, examining herself. She had definitely ruined the dress. Such a gorgeous work of silk and jewels, turn to a stained bit of ripped fabric. She must tell him to no longer give her such exquisite fashions. She had a horrible tendency to ruin them all.

"I told her I would fetch her when you awoke. I shall go now and receive her. Then, we shall properly thank her together." Christine nodded, her words fleeing her. She knew not if she had enough energy to speak nor the knowledge of what words to say.

Satisfied that his angel was content, he left to find her friend and bring her to Christine. Surely both girls would want to see one another. They could assist one another in their troubles, as the heart-wrenching emotions that he knew so well dwelled in one and the other had just overcome them. So they would surely be able to assist one another in coping.

He approached the other girl's dressing room, only to find it darkened and empty. His heart began to pick up. He would never be able to explain such a thing to Christine if her closest friend should be gone forever or, even worse, if she... No. He scolded himself. He could not think like that.

Entering the room softly, he lit only one oil lamp. The shadows appeared and stretched across the area, contorting the room's appearance into one of great mystery and horror. Using the light, he found a small note left on the vanity.

Gingerly lifting the paper from its place on the desk, the phantom read the script and promptly looked up, unsure whether to be afraid or not.

 _My Dearest Loves,_

 _I regret to inform you that I have departed on a trip around Europe. I know not its duration or if I shall even return to the Opera Populaire at all, but you need not worry. I am readily prepared to the face the world. I have become strong through the scorn of what I thought had been love. I will continue to write to you and inform you of my travels, but I beg of you, please do not attempt to have me return through letters or the following of my pursuits. I shall return when I feel it is time. Until then, please hold me in your hearts as I hold you in mine. May your adventures in life be bright until we meet again._

 _Your Sister and Friend,_

 _Meg Giry_

He froze, finishing the letter. Dear God. Christine. She would never be able to handle this in the state she was in. Should he even tell her? He wasn't sure. If he did, she would want to follow Meg against the girl's wishes and he could possibly lose her if she went in the health conditions she was in. Yet, if he didn't, and Meg was hurt or, heaven forbid, died on her escapade, Christine would never forgive him for it.

Needing time to think, he tucked the note into his inside coat pocket and headed back to his love. He knocked lightly on her door to be polite and she called for his entry. When he entered alone and a look of disappointment crossed her face, guilt overtook him.

"I could not find her." he said softly.

"Oh. Well, have you checked the ballet room? Likely she is there rehearsing if she is not in her dressing room. She could have went home, as well. She seemed as if she needed rest when she first crossed me in the hall." Christine rambled on, offering solutions for her friend's disappearance.

"No, my love, she is not at the rehearsal room nor at her home." he broke softly to her.

At first, Christine did not understand the meaning of his words. Surely there was something she had not seen. What did he-No. Christine thought. He couldn't possibly mean.

"How do you know this?" she asked, her breath coming to her quickly.

Sighing, he knew he had to tell her. She deserved to know. In his heart, he struggled with it, but knew that, if it was her who had run off, he would want to know. And this was something of upmost importance. Knowing his duty to his love, he pulled the note out of its hiding place and handed it to her.

As she read the note, he quickly explained before all the life could sink fully out of her.

"My love, she is safe. The young girl may appear delicate, but, like you, has a strong source of life in her. She will return I am sure." he assured her, resting his hand on her thin shoulder.

"But what if-" she began to refute his statement, but he leaned in and kissed the side of her forehead.

"No time for worries now, my love." he spoke against her forehead. "Come, you must eat and then taking the medicines she has left for you. How horrid, for her to return and you be ill, all because you did not obey her orders? How upset she would be."

Christine, unable to think clearly, simply nodded. Whether the fogginess of her mind was from her friend's mysterious and sudden departure or her lover's smooth lips against her forehead, she was unsure. She would figure it out after she had eaten and rested.

As he moved his hand from her shoulder to offer it to her in assistance, Christine watched the phantom with mesmerized attention. She slowly accepted his hands and rose delicately, despite being seriously injured in various places.

With her guidance, she glided across the dressing room to her vanity, where she saw several small vials sitting. They reminded her of a story she once read about a warlock who was able to heal all in the village, but was feared for his powers being unnatural rather than praised for his life-saving capabilities.

Looking to the man whose shoulder she leant on, she felt the fairy tale even more real in this instant, knowing how the warlock had felt. Surely, she would not allow her mind to merge to the mob. She would love him longer than forever.

As he assisted her in sitting down, she lightly caressed the side of his face that was uncovered, which he winced at, but she would not allow him to jerk back this time. She leaned in and reciprocated his actions from before, pressing her pink lips to his cheek.

As she sat down, he watched her intensely. As his gaze stayed mostly on the woman in the chair, unsure of her intentions with such strange affection he had never seen from her before, he lightly rose the vials to Christine's lips.

"You need not hide your face from me, my love. I have seen the true you and yet, I care deeply for you still. I think not like the others in this world and you know that. My dreams lie with you in the shadows and the music of the night."

He reached down and grasped her hand tightly without harming her, and raised it to his lips. She watched on, concerned. Was he well? She wasn't certain.

He looked at the floor for the longest time, unspeaking as her eyes filled with heavy emotion, emotion she could not name, yet wished so desperately that she could. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers and she saw the scariest emotion of all in them: love.

"Christine Daaé, do you love me?" he asked, his voice shaking.

It was her turn to feel unsure for a moment. She had thought she had loved Raoul, but found there was so much missing. It was with her Angel of Music that so much more filled her. Before, she could never identify the emotion rising within her heart when she heard his voice, but now she could. It was love. It was always love.

"I do love you. I love you, my dark Angel of Music." she said at last. The phantom laughed lightly as tears of joy ran down his face. "But if you love me, then you must trust me. You must not hide your best appearance in my presence. I understand when we are not alone, but when we are alone, I will no longer treat you like the gargoyle you believe yourself to be. I will no longer allow you to put yourself in this hell. I see you as perfect. Please, do not hide from me. Allow me to love the parts not even your own mother could. I beg this of you." she said.

He was without words. This beautiful woman, a voice of an angel, had fallen in love with him, all of him. She had accepted what no one else on the earth could, even dared to call it beauty. She was his at last, and his heart could not believe his luck. Surely this was for him after all the torment he had gone through on this earth, all the shaming and deception, lying and hiding. He could never thank her enough for her understanding and compassion.

"If you so beg it, then I shall grant it. If at any time, however, you should no longer be able to look upon the deformity any longer, simply tell me and I shall fetch the mask immediately. I wish not to lose you because of this curse. I have already lost too many I care about due to its hideousness. I could not bear to lose you as well, my love." he said, fear filling him as he reached up and grabbed underneath the mask to remove it.

She grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his action. His dark eyes flew to her blue ones.

"You could never lose me, my angel. I love you, and I have never loved before as I love now." she said with meaning in her eyes.

As she let go, he removed his white clothing the rest of the way, leaving his scars revealed to the world, which was only the woman before him, in his eyes. She watched on, filled with awe as to how someone could know this man and not see the beauty underneath. As he watched her, desperately searching a response, she leaned in, gently closing her eyes, and pressing her lips to his.

As she pulled back after a few long moments, he watched her face, searching for any scrap of regret. Yet, he saw none. Instead, she smiled brightly and kissed him once more.

"Oh, my angel, how I missed you." she said softly.

"Erik." he said to her, unsure of himself.

"What?" she asked confused, then realized. His name. She had never known his name, and yet had loved him for ten long years. And even before that, unknowing of her true passion. "Oh. I see. Erik. A truly regal name for such a noble man." she smiled at him. "I am trusting you with my heart, Erik."

"I have trusted you with mine for years, my love. My Christine. I've loved you from the moment I saw you in the shadows of the backstage lamps. I have always loved you." he replied.

"And I see that now. I apologize with a heavy heart for not seeing the passion before. I regret shattering your heart all those years ago. I was a child, a fool." she sobbed against his cheek.

Wiping away her tears, Erik gently lifted her chin to match his gaze.

"You found every last shard and rebuilt it, my love. You have made it soar on the highest wings today. I can never thank God above enough for sending me such an angel as you." he said, taking her hands back in his own. "I love you, Christine."

"I will never leave you, Erik." she said, and rested her head on his shoulder.


	15. Hero of Her Own Story

Meg finished the note, returning her quill to the inkwell and sealed it. As tears ran down her cheeks, she knew what she had to do. She had to go find herself out there because she surely wasn't finding her here. So she grabbed her cloak and satchel of money and close belongings, and snuck out the back doors of the theater.

She pulled the fabric tighter around her as the chill of the night air sank into her flesh and bone. She dared herself a glance back of the heavy door of the opera hall, losing strength for a moment. What if she was to just go back into the heat for tonight? For a couple months while the show still ran? Wait until the show ended just before summer and take her leave then? She would then be welcomed by the cool ocean and warm summer sun. Not risk dying of frost seeping into her blood.

No, she thought to herself. She had to do this now. She could no longer hide behind the scrim of the theater and hope for a prince to rescue her. It was time to be her own hero, to remove herself from the disastrous life she now lived.

Knowing in her heart she had to leave, she wiped her eyes once more and ran off into the night. Her heels clicked across the cobblestones as she glanced up and down the street. How strangely gorgeous Paris was, cloaked in the shadows of the oil lamps that lined the streets. What an honest representation of her life.

When the light shone bright and heated, the world was beautiful in the simplest meaning, but the more she grew and matured the more she saw the dark side, where the light only shone in certain places. It was new and some things were frightening, but there was a hidden opulence of the environment. She just needed to look deeper to find it. She was going to find it. She was sure of it. That was why she had to flee.

She saw the road she was looking for and turned down the behind a few more times to be sure she had escaped from the theater hall that had haunted her for far too long. Yes, she had met Christine in the very hall years ago, but that had been the only good thing to take place in that hall for her.

Meg sighed happily as she saw the lights of the train station right down at the end of the alley. She ran down the darkened path, undeterred by the fact that she was wearing her heels still. She arrived at the edge of the station, gasping for air. She looked up at the tracks and nodded, tears glistening down her eyes. She had to do this, she repeated in her mind.

She glanced down at the ticket in her hand and back to the grand train in the station. Rucksack in hand, she boarded the train. She took her seat in one of the leather seats on the quiet car, and shut her eyes after putting her ticket in its place. Perhaps she would just rest her eyes...

Meg was sitting at the top of a hill, sure that something was unlike before. She knew she should be happy, as the hill was rural and peaceful, as if it was out of a dream or painting. It oversaw the small village of people below and the small river country just beyond. She jumped for a second when she felt a large but gentle hand reach for hers.

Turning to see where the motion came from, she met the gaze of the very boy she could never figure out. The green eyes that looked like the ones she had seen the years before. This was not the boy she had known, though. He had changed. He had more scars on his face and arms, and his hands were courser than she remembered.

She had changed, too, she realized. As she looked down at the little French town below, she knew what it was that she had left her town for. She had left the home to find peace and happiness, as she had found with this man on this hill.

She could not wish for more than she had, and yet understood at last why Christine had refused to give up on her love, even years later. To find a love like this, a love that lasted for years and made such a deep impact on one's heart and soul could never been forgotten.

"Meg, I need you." the man said next to her. "I missed you for so long."

He took her hand and she allowed it. She was unsure of his intentions, but hoped it was the same direction that she hoped it would go in.

"I missed you as well, my love, but you've changed." she said.

"Haven't we both?" he replied. She could tell he had thought this through. "I have loved you longer than words can describe. From when we were kids, you made me laugh and smile like no one else could. Just seeing your face could brighten my day. I knew I cared about you then, I just never knew how much I did until recently. We've both made mistakes as we've grown, but can that be held against us in love?"

No, it could not be. She knew it could not be. And so she took his hand again and smiled at him. She would allow this young boy turned clumsy man steal her heart, but she would hold a part of it still, as she had learned from heartbreak before.

She smiled at the man next to her, and leaned in. Their lips were about to touch when a distant voice that yelled caught her attention. She turned to the voice and suddenly felt faint.

"Final Destination! Berlin, Germany!" the deep voice called, awaking Meg from her slumber. She looked about, realizing she was asleep still on the train and Remi was not at her side. She sighed, but looked out at the world around her.

She had a whole life, a whole adventure, awaiting her outside the train. She must not look back behind her now. With that in mind, she grabbed her belongings from the seat beside her and departed the car. She had life to explore.


	16. Train Steam and Steel

As Meg disembarked her carriage, she couldn't help but look around at the archaic buildings and structures that surrounded Berlin. It was truly old fashioned and so modern at the same time. The windows of the buildings sparkled in the sunlight, especially the towering churches.

There was construction around the city, too, as shirtless men built what Meg assumed to be more towers and residences. What a sight, to see such work being down in the middle of the city! Paris work normally occurred in the evening or parts of the city Meg did not go to. She watched on for a second until she realized she had gotten the attention of some of the workers.

They were smiling at her, some missing teeth, but big and strong nonetheless. However, Meg found no attraction to the men around her. Perhaps for a little fun, but not a relationship. She nodded and smiled as she walked by, Remi flashing into her head.

No, she thought, shaking her curls to clear her mind. She would not send her thoughts to such a confusing and upsetting place, she was a fun new place, ready to explore.

"Entschuldigung, Fräulein!" one of the workers called out to her. "Wie heisst du?"

Meg turned and smiled, unsure of what he had said. Maybe she should have learned a bit of each language before she departed to these foreign places. Golly, she felt so daft sometimes.

"I-I'm sorry" she called back loudly and slowly, using hand gestures with her words. "I don't speak German!"

The workmen laughed and she wondered what she had done that was funny. She didn't know, but blushed nonetheless. The workman who had called to her approached her and offered a strong but gentle hand.

"Then pardon me, Mademoiselle, as I will speak in a language you understand. Not to worry, I simply asked you what they call you." He said, smiling at her.

Now Meg truly felt a daft fool. She looked down at the ground, then back up at the man.

"Miss Meg Giry." she replied "Lead Ballerina of Paris' Opera Populaire." She straightened her stance slightly, coming to her full height and appearing somewhat regal, despite being in traveling clothes. She had not wanted to appear dirty or low-class, however, and had chosen some of her best casual wear to travel in.

The man smiled at her while his friends hooted and whistled behind him. He chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his neck with his dirt-covered hand. He ignored his friends and the new stain on the back of his neck the best he could, trying to impress Meg.

"Well, uh, Miss Meg Giry, Lead Ballerina of the Opera Populaire, they call me Herr Frank Rulsch, Builder of Things here in Berlin." He laughed, causing Meg to blush. "What is a woman such as yourself doing here in Berlin? Performing at our opera hall? I didn't hear of a new show coming to town."

"I am not here to perform, Herr Rulsch. I am here to explore your fine city. In fact, I'm exploring all of Europe, I'll have you know." she said, smiling proudly.

Suddenly the other construction fellows were focused solely on Meg's words and stories. Most of them had only seen Berlin and the small woods around the city. The girl was not only from another country, but gorgeous and traveling the continent as well. To have such a talented, well-versed girl on their arm, or underneath them would surely establish their notoriety among their coworkers.

Meg, noting she had the attention of the builders, smiled and wrung her hands. So this was what it was like to have the oil lamps focused on you. Meg enjoyed it somewhat, but the glares of the men slightly unnerved her. She had seen the look before, when Raoul looked at Christine, and when Monsieur Boucke used to watch the dancers rehearse. It was a dark look, and often led to great misfortune and trouble.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I must go." Meg said, backing away. "I have so much to see in the city and so little time here."

As Meg backed slowly away from the group of men, she didn't dare turn her back on them. For, when a man has such a dark and troublesome look in his eyes, one could never know what he could do. They were capable of great things when it came to proving their manliness: rape, theft, even murder.

It was a good thing that the woman kept her eyes on the men, too, as she was followed by the group.

"Wait, wait, wait, Miss Giry. There's no need to rush off to your next place, you've got plenty of time here, as you said so yourself. Please, entertain us just a little while longer, why won't you?" Herr Rulsch said, grabbing the woman's forearm tightly.

"My my, what a grip you have, Monsieur. Surely, a man as yourself must be aware of the consequences of not managing time well." she said, struggling to break free. "Please, you're hurting me! My dress will be stained! Please!"

Meg began to panic as the man kept his grip. She fought with all her will, but it was to no avail. She Was trapped. She began seeing the world in a blur as she continued to pull on her arm to release it, begging for freedom. She needed to get away, but the stubborn fool would not release her.

Unable to fight anymore, her will began to die and she went limp, allowing the group to surround her. How would it be that this was her first experience in another country: the very thing she had fled to get away from.

As these thoughts continued to race through Meg's head, she heard shouting and suddenly was released, falling to the ground. Still in shock, she attempted to scramble away, but failed. She was lacking energy from the long train ride and the lack of sleep.

As the men scuffled about, she had dirt kicked in her face from the ground and coughed, sputtering while she was unable to breathe. Trying to gasp in a little air between her attacks of residue, she was unable to get up a deep breath in order to gain some strength. Panic filled her mind as colors of Berlin swirled around her. She was a goner, she was sure of it. The world rushed faster and faster around her until it froze.

A gunshot echoed through the streets, and the people around stared. Meg couldn't help but stop and stare as well. She didn't remember any of the workers carrying a gun. Perhaps she had not seen it.

"Enough of this nonsense unless one of you is next!" a deep voice hollered. The workmen froze and stared at the burly man in the middle of them, a strong man with multiple scars and a worn face. The moment he was certain that no one else would try to attack the woman, he knelt down beside her. He took her head in his lap gently, multiple curls haven fallen out with the scuffle.

She blinked a few times and couldn't believe her eyes. There, with her head in his lap, was her Remi. He looked at the girl with great worry and fear, unsure if she had been irreparably hurt. Meg let the tears roll down her cheeks now, tears of joy and relief spilling like the water.

"Re-Remi. I'm so-I'm so very sorry...I-" Meg tried spit out between gasps.

"Shhh. Quiet, my love, we will speak once you are well. For now, I must find a carriage to take us back to the hotel." he calmed the woman, running his hand over her curls.

Meg nodded, and attempted to stand up, but fell from lack of strength. Remi put his arms underneath her and lifted Meg from the cobblestone of the street. It was then she saw that Herr Ralsch was dead on the ground, with a shot wound in his temple. She hid her face in Remi's vest, to which he calmed the girl again.

He hailed for a carriage and was able to return Meg to her room. She pulled the golden key from her small purse as the man approached the door of her room. He shifted slightly with the dancer in his arms, opening the door and proceeded. He placed the limp girl in the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck.

"Rest now, for you have a lot of things to discuss with myself and the Berlin police when you awake." he said. "And if you feel like speaking, I will pull these blankets up to your nose to prevent it. Sleep."

And, with a smile on her face, Meg obeyed her love's orders and fell asleep under the cotton blankets.


	17. Where in the World

As the sun shone in on the gorgeous porcelain face, the young woman smiled. Content to stay tangled in the large and comforting sheets for just a bit longer, the woman turned on her side. Feeling an arm entwine itself around her waist, she pulled herself closer to the warm man lying next to her.

Snuggled in contently, a bright smile positioned itself across her lips. The aroma of shadows and antiques developed around the pair and the moment was, in the most accurate description, perfect. The case was what both had longed for since they had met years ago and continued still to think of as a small piece of heaven.

Knowing that they had to awaken for the day, the gentle man leaned over and kissed the woman on the forehead.

"As much as I wish we could stay just like this throughout the day and evening, I fear the new guests of the Opera de Daaè would be concerned if they did not hear your angelic voice. So, I must not be selfish and keep you here." the dark silhouette of a man spoke.

The woman brushed her dark curls from her eyes and sat up slightly, just enough to lean herself against the chest of her lover. She looked up at him and smiled a lazy grin. Resting her head against his chest, she began to speak.

"Erik, my angel, perhaps we could cancel the shows today? Say I'm ill and unable to perform, that I've caught an ailment." Christine said as she ran her hand over his scars, admiring each and every one of his faults. The very things that made him the angel he was in the moment.

"But, my dear, we have cancelled shows the past three days! Any longer and I shall go bankrupt!" he replied, laughing at her remark. He had never imagined her wishing to be at his side without missing a moment, begging him to send away others so she could stay alone with him.

"You are not, but you would have me by your side eternally without the interference of others. Wouldn't that be lovely?" the fair singer asked.

Erik contemplated the thought for what seemed to be hours on end. It was only the very thing he had longed for through years and years of watching from the shadows and competing with schoolboys for Christine's affections.

And now, here they lay, together after too long of a time. Truly, this idea could only be one of a foolish slave of affections, a teenaged fantasy of a feverish girl gone mad. Quite opposite, in fact, was the current reality. The story that was occurring right around him was one he had only imagined as fiction, a plot inside his mind, never to come true.

"I suppose then I would have all I have ever asked for." he replied deeply, his voice attempting to hide the knowledge that he could never ask for more.

"And what is it, that you've wanted all of your life?" she asked her lover.

"Not all my life, but since I laid eyes on you. Ever since I have heard you sing. That is the only part of my life that matters to me." he told her, stroking the curls.

Christine leaned up and kissed the man as she smiled at his words. He certainly was a person of melodic lyrics, that she was sure of. Her entrancing angel of music.

But enough with this romantic foolishness. We need to get you prepared to perform. I will not allow you to cancel any more shows. We must not deprive the world of your talent." he said, rising from the mattress.

Turning back to the woman in the white lace, he offered his hand to her, helping her rise to her slender feet. He looked at her in awe as her dark curls tumbled down her back. Truly, she was an angel, and not the scarred and twisted kind that he himself was.

Obligingly, Christine placed her delicate hand in his calloused one and rose from the bed herself. They headed toward the light at the top of the shadowed staircase. When they arrived at the top, Erik placed his pearly mask back onto his deformity and stepped carefully through the smashed window, Christine in tow.

He helped her through the glass, avoiding the shards that were once the very factor as to Christine's fatal puncturing. The scars were there to prove it. Such beautiful marks of a victory well fought for.

Christine disappeared behind here Chinese silk barricade to change into her performance gown for the evening, leaving Erik to take his usual seat at her vanity. As he prepared it for her to quickly prepare her already-pristine appearance into an even more gorgeous masterpiece. One he was undeserving of, yet appreciated and loved beyond words.

He carefully placed the pins, rouge, and powder about the table, as well as many other assorted beauty tools. And when, at last, Christine emerged from behind her shade, he rose and crossed to tie her corset with practiced hands. Then, as she glided across the floor once again, he watched.

"You'll create wrinkles on your skin, letting your mouth dangle in such a manner." she called as she watched the man from her mirror. Yes, he would always be in her mirror and her heart.

"What does a man as old and wickedly deformed as myself care for wrinkles?" he joked, coming behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Nonetheless, I have a gift for you. It pales in comparison to your beauty, but I figured it was worth a penny or so. I wish only to add light to your luminescent halo."

Christine blushed as he spoke, use to the compliments, but not from her mentor and lover. He pulled a small box from his pocket and moved so his hands were right next to her face. It was then he opened the box and showed to the woman the gift he had purchased for her. The amethyst crystals sparkled in the oil lamplight, perfectly complimenting the lavender gown Erik had made for his love.

Christine gasped at the beauty of the jewelry. How expensive such a work of artwork must have been. She could not believe the luck that fate had granted her with. The mysterious man placed the box lightly on her vanity, then removed the jewelry from the container. He gently placed the piece of art around her neck, gently fastening it in the back.

"Erik, it's gorgeous. Thank you so much." she said lightly, amazed by the beauty. "I shall cherish it forever."

Erik chuckled at her words and grasped his hand on her shoulder.

"Well, hopefully you won't over-cherish this piece, as I plan to gift you with many more just like it." he said. "I hope you enjoy it, but it pales in what you mean to me." he said.

Christine rose, finished with her preparation. The man watched on as she readied to perform.

"I must go, my love, and perform now. We have a large group waiting and must not keep them that way." she said. "Thank you for the gorgeous crystals. I shall have all of my attention on your box, tonight, and meet you right back here after."

"Perfectly agreed. And you need not worry, my love, as I am sure you will have my captivated attention this evening, also, as well as every other person in the hall." he chuckled once again.

"But I will only see you. You and Meg." Christine said, then departed the dressing room.

"She will return, you need not fret." he called after her. "And we will all be together again. I am absolutely positive."

And with that, the man bid adieu to his love temporarily and prayed diligently that her friend would soon return to her, as the woman worried every day that she would.


	18. How Does One Spell Trouble in German?

As Meg woke, she heard sharp voices in the other room. She listened in for the words, missing a few from sleepiness of her mind. She recognized one as her love and was unsure of the other. It was a deep voice, though, and was accompanied by a thick German accent. She did not like this voice, as it reminded her of the men from the night before. All of the "w"s sounded like "v"s and the words mixed together.

"When... Woman...Wake...Questions...Necessary." she heard from the German man.

"I understand. I''l notify you when she is up, but, for now, she must rest. I will not have you interrupting her sleep and making her unwell." Remi replied sternly.

Meg smirked at his words: how he had stood up for her. How he had protected her both on the street and now from the police. What a knight in shining armor.

Meg smiled, but sat up a little straighter nonetheless. She had to deal with this eventually, and she guessed now was the time. She rose and wrapped her robe around her tightly. She had a job she had to do.

For too long others had protected her: now it was her turn to be a princess in shining armor. She would rescue Remi and they would be happy. She deserved to be happy more than anyone else, and she could find a way if she only was less self-less. This was her happy ending. Christine and Erik got one, so would she.

Feeling a lot more confident, the blonde opened the door and strolled through, barefoot.

All eyes shifted to her when she entered, and she could match only one: Remi's. His gaze calmed her as the other looks caused her heart to rush in ways she knew. It was the same feeling she had before going on the stage for a performance.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped to his side and took his strong hand in hers. With him by her side, she could do anything.

"I am prepared for your questions. Ask me anything you like and I shall tell you all." she said, and took her seat at the table.

The leading officer looked to Remi, but Meg would have none of it.

"My eyes are over here, Monsieur. You wanted to ask me questions, so do it." Meg said sternly, crossing her arms.

The officer, taken aback by Meg's words, switched his gaze from the eyes of the man to the fierce dragon eyes that seemed to breathe fire into his soul. He was scared for a moment, forgetting that Meg was a young blonde ballerina. A chill ran down his back, and he regretted taking this case on. Maybe it wasn't worth it?

"Good then. We shall start." he said, motioning to the living area. "Take a seat, this will not be short."

Meg nodded once and went over to the sofa, taking a glass of wine with her. The officer looked confused for a moment, but simply rolled his eyes. The girl must have some German in her.

"Ask anything you like. I will answer honestly and to the best of my capability." she said, crossing her knees. Obviously, she was not giving up that easily. She had to fight for what she wanted.

The German man nodded, confused, and pulled out his tablet of paper.

"Right, Fräulein. What should we start with? Perhaps, can you describe the story as you remember it? With many details, please." the man said sternly.

Suddenly, it felt like her memory had filled with foam swabs and cotton pillows. She couldn't remember a thing after her head had hit the ground. What little blurs and flashes she could remember felt far away and unclear. What had happened last night? Suddenly, as the panic set in, Meg felt like crying.

She couldn't do that now, though; come all this way just to have a panic attack in the final battle/ So, taking yet another deep breath to pull herself together, Meg fought back the tears and spoke with what she hoped to appear as confidence.

"I began speaking to the group of construction men. They were polite, at first, but then got this horrible look in their eyes. I feared for my life. I was surely going to be attacked in the most indecent manner when Remi came into the scenario." she recounted.

The officer nodded and jotted down the information she had said, then turned back to her.

"Are you sure that you did not say or do anything to give them the impression that you would like to do such a thing?" the man said.

For a second, Meg wasn't sure that she had heard the man correctly. When she was sure she did, she turned into a fuming tower of anger. When she raised her gaze from the floor, the officer jumped back in alarm.

"You did _not_ just say that!? Did you seriously?! Now, I may not know much about your country, being from another country of different culture, but, I know one thing, and that's that you should never _ever_ blame a female victim for leading them on! You, my friend, are a daft fool if you believe for _one second_ that the reason why that man was attacked was because _I_ led him on! I attempted to escape, that is all! Yes, Remi came in and protected me and helped me, but he did nothing wrong, Monsieur!" Meg said as she stood up, outraged.

As she wavered in her stance, Remi rose and helped her steady herself. She nodded to him and they both sat down again, as the lieutenant jotted down more, then snapped the notebook shut.

"I don't want to seem rude, Fräulein, but I need you and Herr Chagny to leave Berlin and not come back. I do not want to persecute either of you for the murder, but will have no option if you remain here any longer." he said and rose.

Meg looked at Remi, who was hard-faced, and nodded. They would leave. Go somewhere else in Germany: Munich or Frankfurt maybe? Or perhaps another country entirely. She had said she wanted a European adventure, and she had definitely gotten the adventure part, now just for the rest of Europe. Remi took her hand in his again and kissed her knuckles.

"Yes, sir. I mean, we had better head home anyway. We have a whole life waiting for us there." Remi said.

A life. A life for them. Remi and Meg, married, living in a little village outside of Paris, close enough for her to still perform in the opera, but also live outside the city. A perfect life for her and her lover: small, quaint, and casual. She was done with the exquisite and fancy; her heart belonged to nature.

"Good. Depart today, please. I imagine that won't be hard since your bags are not unpacked." he nodded toward the black leather bags in the corner. Meg followed his gaze to the bags, and nodded sadly, Yes, it was time to return to the Opera Populaire.

"Yes. There is a noon train. We shall get tickets immediately and depart." Meg said to the officer then nodded. "Which means I should get myself ready and head to the station. It departs in an hour."

The place nodded then left, and Remi shut the door behind them. She turned and headed to the bathroom to get ready, but stopped when she heard Remi speak, his head against the door.

"Wait. We don't have to go back to Paris. We could go somewhere else instead, maybe catch a ship to Australia or the new amusements in America! There are so many opportunities to explore, we have freedom, and I can't wait to spend time with you." he said.

Meg felt tears in her eyes. She knew she could do this, but the words were avoiding her. She wasn't sure what to say to Remi.

"I'm so sorry I ruined everything, Meg. I just was so scared that something would happen to you and-" the man started.

"And nothing, my love. You saved me. Something troublesome did happen, and likely I would not be standing here without you. Plus, you're right. We can go somewhere else in the world." she said.

Remi crossed to Meg, hoping that his words and actions would not hurt her. He wanted to sit and tell her everything in his mind and heart, but they did not have time for that. She had to get ready to catch a train. So he kept his mouth shut and nodded, letting her flee to the bathroom to prepare herself.

When she returned later, Remi was still on the couch, with the bags by the door and his hat and cloak on. He looked at her and stood, to which she blushed and followed his actions. Grabbing the baggage, the couple departed to hail a carriage to the station.

As Remi sat aboard the train, he couldn't help but stare at the blonde woman as she gazed longingly out the window at the scenery around them. She seemed upset, and he did not know what to say to comfort her. He never had been good with words, as brute strength and hidden compassion had always been his main attributes. He had to try, though. He loved her.

"Meg, my love, I know that you do not want to return to Paris, but it is for the best. I received the suspicious letter from Raoul about Christine, and I know she needs you. She needs your help, just like I am going to to stand up to my brother. We can leave immediately after you help her. I promise. We will go anywhere in the world that you would like." he said, hoping she would smile the way he loved.

She did turn to him, scared of the future and how it could repeat the past. She didn't want Christine or the Phantom to get hurt, but she wanted so desperately to see the world, especially with Remi. So, she took his hand tightly, and squeezed it a little, showing him a sad smile.

"I'm not worried, Remi. I am sure that we will travel again soon. Just a short stop in-" Meg was cut off.

"Paris! Last stop!" the conductor called.

The couple smiled at one another and stood, grabbing the suitcases from the floor below them. The pair linked arms and stepped off the train. The smoke parted to reveal the gorgeous city of Paris before them. And right in the center of it all, was the Opera Populaire. Meg knew they had to head right there, as Christine's gala would start any minute, and a danger was right in the shadows.


	19. Author's Note (Epilogue)

Hi Everyone! Yes, the story is now over, but I plan to write a sequel soon! First, however, I will be writing a novel that is not fan fiction, so keep an eye out for updates on that process! Thank you all, for those of you who have stayed with me on this journey! I am so very excited to continue on my writing journey! Also, I hope to see the Phantom of the Opera in live performance soon! I want to thank each and every one of you! Write again soon!

Darkheart989


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